Screw the Bassist
by LadyAriaa
Summary: A random story set in a world of metal. The somewhat twisted tale of how a fearsome band recruited their final member, and how a lonely bassist changed everything. AU story, contains gore, swearing and eventual slash.
1. Enter Reginald

Author's note: Ok so this was supposed to be a short smut story involving redesigns I did for Bushroot and Liquidator but there were other ideas that decided to force themselves into my writing so I have decided to split it up into multiple chapters. So enjoy my crazy look into the metalverse of Darkwing Duck.

Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck or any of its characters. That honor belongs to the almighty Disney. I have made no money off of writing this, it just pleases me. The characters used in this story were inspired by a band poster I did for the fearsome five. If you wanna know what they're supposed to look like in this you can see the picture on DA. The actual story was inspired by a slash pic I did of metal Reggie and Bud.

Warning: Swearing, possibly violence, eventual gay sex and uh… metal? Does metal count? Well you've been warned.

These counterparts are of my own design and do not necessarily entirely reflect the personalities of the canon characters… reader discretion is advised.

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><p>Within a St. Canard of some distortion, metal rules: the many inhabitants held captive by the dark and twisted world of a single band. From the center of the many buildings rises a tribute to the might of the music gods, a home where only the warped dwell and only the deranged would venture.<p>

But today, the vast manor breathed with the presence of hundreds bodies, hopeful followers of their metal idols. The silent walls in the majority of the large home betrayed the normally heavy atmosphere of the grounds. Nothing but the muted screams from the mysterious lower levels were resident echoes, and only the potential members packed within the massive front hall lent the manor any life.

Just outside the long, crowded corridor, massive doors concealed the metal messiahs. A red glow was the only light to filter out the shadows of the room's many dark fissures. The shaded walls were covered in carvings characteristic of the rest of the home: dark designs, incredibly intricate in their twisted nature giving bold witness to the currency that went into them. Even the large, long table in the center of the room was riddled with crimson patterns of malevolent scenes, lending its aesthetic to the four figures at its back. It was the only well-lit area of the room, casting menacing shadows upon the resident musicians. After over one hundred applicants, the band members could hardly claim enthusiasm at the thought of seeing anymore under qualified bassists to replace their recent mishap.

Bassists had never lasted long.

Each member of the band was quickly losing patience. They never liked doing work outside their music, and they had never wasted so much time looking for a qualified musician among the drooling droves as they had that day.

Beneath the pale spotlight one of the many hopeful bassists dug his own grave in blissful oblivion. He had long since lost the attention of most of the band. The only reason he had not been stopped already was the currently unconscious state of a certain lead singer. They had only been a few moments into the latest audition before the mallard's head had hit the table. His arms now hung lifelessly at his side, back bent uncomfortably to allow his masked face to rest gently on the surface in front of him. Even in his sleep his scowl attested to his foul mood.

The concoction of dog and water to his left was more interested in the amber bottle in his hand than the trial going on in front of him. The watery dreadlocks that were signature of the drummer slid back fluidly as he tipped the bottle up to look inside. A soft frown was the only response to the lack of alcohol. When the brief search proved futile, the disapproving canine lowered the bottle to stare at the duck still playing before them. A glance down the table told him that he was definitely less out of it than his fellow performers.

The red and black clad jester beside the sleeping Negaduck was obviously having a far harder time than the others. His leg shook furiously from the effort of being so uncharacteristically inert. How could they expect him to sit still so long just to look at a bunch of losers? He leaned forward over the table, resting his chin on its sleek surface as he frowned at the current dupe.

"Boooo," he spat at the increasingly boring guitarist.

"Ugh, I agree. I can barely hear and I'm less tone deaf than this asshole. Can we just end this, or… whatever it is we do again?"

The bored jester shifted his gaze lazily over to look at the source of the comment. The slim rat was leaning back in his hard metal chair, feet propped on the table's surface and ever present guitar in his grip. Even though Jack couldn't see through his friend's dark glasses, years of familiarity with the voltage junkie told him that his gaze was unfocused: a sure signal that his attention was waning.

"We end them Sparky. End them good," Jack replied, never lifting his chin from the cool metal surface.

The watery drummer at the other end of the table stared down his now empty bottle with distain. Now he would have to track down someone to get him more booze. He grumbled slightly glancing over to the apparently oblivious bassist in front of them.

"Hmm," he mumbled tossing the drained whiskey bottle over his wet shoulder where it broke with a soft shatter. "Since Negs is apparently too out of it to offer an opinion at the moment, I think we can all agree to ditch this bitch."

After a quick glance at the currently passed out lead singer next to him Jack quickly straightened, bouncing slightly in his seat. "Oh, oh! I get ta press the button," he didn't wait for agreement from his band mates before slamming his palm roughly onto the large red button just in front of the resting bird.

The action not only sent the pitiful hopeful screaming down a deep crevice to the fearsome bowels of the house but woke the sleeping mallard with the aggravation of the resulting noise. Negaduck lifted his head with a growl, Jack immediately slipping his hand behind his back in response as if the action would be sufficient to mask his guilt. The now fuming duck glanced around him, the furious red of his eyes scanning for the annoyance that would dare wake him. An innocent smile lit up Jack's face as the burning eyes of the other fixed upon him.

"Did you press my button fuck face?" The question was cold and harsh with a knowing tone beneath it. He knew damn well who touched his button.

"Uhh… no?"

Negaduck narrowed his gaze, reaching forward slowly to grip the back collar around the clown's neck. He yanked the other duck forward harshly pulling his neck so that their beaks were mere centimeters apart. His stare bore into the cringing guitarist, practically making his large teeth chatter.

"Don't ever touch my button asswhipe," he hissed in response.

"Got it boss," Jack choked, his voice slightly harsh from the tightness around his neck. "I don't get to play with the button."

Negaduck gave him one last snarl before releasing his grip. "Don't you forget it chuckles."

As the perturbed rhythmist caught his breath and rubbed his fingers gently along his tender neck, the singer turned his attention to the massive list of names in front of him. He pulled a small knife from his boot, slashing off the latest failure.

"Well at least that's one more knob down," he mumbled.

Elmo cocked his head to the side at the statement— struck by a rare moment of contemplation. He let himself fall forward so that the chair was no longer tipped, the resulting clank of the steel legs hitting the marble floor earning him the attention of the others.

"Do ya ever feel bad for 'em?" he questioned randomly.

"Hell no! They knew what they were in for," Jack replied, pausing to pull out one of the wavers he had conveniently stored in his pants. "It states clearly in this release form that shitty performance may, and probably will, result in disembowelment."

"Yeah well still sucks for any asshole who tries to be our bassist," Bud decided to chime in now that he had received another bottle of whiskey from a nameless underling.

"Pfft, who gives a shit about the bassist anyway? How many have we gone through in the past month? Ten or some shit like that?" Jack said, scratching absently at the thick plumage above his shirt.

"Hehhe, gotta admit though, some of them _were_ pretty fun to get rid of," the rat snickered from beside him.

"Heehehee, like Trent?"

It only took a knowing glance from the grinning clown to set the two off in a fit of bizarrely synchronized laughter. The mallard in the center rubbed at his temples as he fumed. He was really starting to regret drinking as much as he had the night before. As the two continued to laugh, he calmly reached behind the cackling jester's head before slamming it furiously onto the table in front of them. Elmo bit his lip to stifle his laughs as Jack rubbed at his sore head.

"Oooh, man," he groaned "that was way worse than usual."

A gurgling snort sounded from the opposite end of the table as the scene unfolded. Jack flipped his head abruptly to glare at the smirking puddle.

"Go fuck yourself Bud," he grumbled.

The still smiling drummer smooched his watery lips at his perturbed band mate. A certain finger was his only response.

Negaduck shot a burning scowl at Bud just to warn him to choose his actions carefully. The watery canine simply leaned his head on his hand and sat back to watch the show. Convinced the other wouldn't be an issue, Negaduck returned his attention to the two guitarists to his right.

"You wanna know who cares about the bassist faggot? I DO! I'm fucking sick of being here and if we don't FINISH this soon I swear to all that is evil that I will tear your balls out through your throat. SO SHUT YOUR OVERSIZED FACE!"

Jack slouched down in his chair as the other bird finished his rant. He let his arms fall to his sides, his fingertips grazing the ground as a pouting expression settled on his face. The furious vocalist turned back to the list in front of him, satisfied for the moment that the crazed duck would shut his hole for a while. He made a mental note to make him suffer later as his red eyes struggled to focus through the hangover induced haze that had invaded his vision.

Negaduck growled at the paper he was attempting to read, tossing the clipboard to the side when his efforts proved unsuccessful. "Just send the next asshole in!" he spat at the nearest lackey as he leaned his elbows on the table so he could rub at his burning eyes.

The servant's mumbled obedience went ignored by the perturbed avian as the employee rushed to produce the next applicant. The large doors of the great hall groaned in protest as they were forced open to admit the newest victim. Negaduck slid his hands off his eyes, forcing them to make out the newcomer despite their exhaustion.

_He'd better be fucking good,_ he thought to himself.

Each member of the group took in the new arrival, all sizing him up in their own way. Only Elmo seemed not to care much; he was far too interested in plucking at his guitar to even really notice the lanky bird as he approached. The messy black mop of hair and dim light in the room shielded much of the slim duck's face as he approached the table turning him into something of a walking enigma. Bud tipped his head as he watched the figure trudge closer, suddenly struck by the other's strange lack of color. The primarily black trench coat against his white plumage made him look as though he was taken from an old movie, only the orange shine of his beak lending him any pigment. Bud chuckled internally at the thought. Negs would probably blow the poor sap's head in if he was anything like a classic movie actor.

The long coat trailed behind him as he walked towards the group, held down only by the guitar that was slung over his back. He came to a stop some five feet in front of the scrutinizing band, finally lifting his head to observe the others. His long, shaggy bangs cast shadows along his static face in a slightly eerie display. As brilliant blue eyes shifted along the table Bud couldn't help but stare. So there was some color after all.

After his cursory inspection of the figures in front of him, the blank-faced duck dropped his gaze once again as he fished in his coat. Slim fingers produced a red pack of cigarettes from which he shook one of the sticks loose, pulling it out with his beak and lighting it quickly. The entire action was fluid with familiarity. _Probably a chain smoker, _Bud noted to himself.

"So," Negaduck's gravelly voice growled, tearing the drummer from his thoughts as he broke the silence. "I'm fuckin' pissed and hung over as hell. So tell us whatever lame name your filthy parents saddled you with and play something before I kill something."

The potential bassist was silent for a moment as though thinking over his answer. "Reginald Bushroot," he stated simply.

"Pfft, what a gay name," Jack mumbled softly.

The quite statement received a strong punch to the jaw. "Oow!" he griped, rubbing at the place where he had been hit. Negaduck didn't even bother to acknowledge him this time.

Reggie cocked an eyebrow at the display. It seemed the lead singer wanted to get this over with as quickly as he did. "So can I play now or what?" he questioned, replacing his already dying cigarette with a fresh one.

"You'd better before I maim you."

Reggie didn't have to be told twice. He pulled the bass from his back, flipping it around and connecting the jack absently to the sleek blue guitar. He blew at his bangs to remove some from his face as his fingers began to move along the strings. The tune was oddly heavy, as though the cords were resisting their treatment, but it was hardly an unpleasant one. Negaduck had to admit as he watched the other play that he was better than he had expected. Just a glance at the slender, slightly malnourished duck told him that he would be easy enough to keep in line. He wasn't nearly interesting enough, but that could be fixed. A glance to his discarded list of failed interviews combined with another throb of his migraine convinced him to take what he could get.

"Alright bush-brain I'm gonna stop you right there," he waited until the bassist's blue eyes were focused on him again.

Bushroot lifted the smoking cancer in his hand back to his bill as the mallard stared him down. Negaduck sat back in his chair, regarding the other duck's blank look with narrowed eyes as he pondered his course of action.

"Why do you want this job?" he finally asked.

"Money." Was the simple reply.

"That's it?" Elmo decided to interject "None of that 'I want my name in lights' bullshit?"

"No."

"Mmm…" Negaduck muttered, "Well here's the deal _Reginald,_ I have seen literally hundreds of talentless assholes, and since you are the only loser so far that has not made me want to devour my own soul.. I'm gonna give you the job."

"Heeey, don't we get an opinion on this?" Jack complained, forgetting all previous warnings.

In his defense he only flinched slightly when the evil mallard turned back towards him.

"He does kinda have a point," Elmo interposed on the jester's behalf leaning over the table to stare through his heavily tinted glasses at the singer.

Negaduck narrowed his eyes at the rat before turning over his shoulder to question the dripping dog beside him. "I suppose _you_ have an opinion too, eh drip-face?"

Bud shrugged in response. "Don't bring me into this. He's good enough for me."

"Well I think he's a douche," Jack huffed, not hesitating to voice his opinion.

Reggie's eyes narrowed slightly at the comment, but he remained silent as he watched the band in front of him.

"I've got something that will fix him. Besides I don't really give a fuck what you think," Negaduck retorted.

"Well what about Mo?" The fuming jester said crossing his arms over his chest and looking to the rodent at his right. The rat was plucking at his guitar once again, absently playing out one of their newest songs. The metal strings rattled without the amp but the tune was still recognizable.

"Wha?" he questioned when he finally noticed he was suddenly the attention of the entire room.

"You have no idea what we're talking about anymore do you?" the jester asked dolefully.

"We were talking about something?" Elmo questioned, laughing slightly as he returned to his strumming.

Negaduck blinked irately at the pair. _Why am I CONSTANTLY surrounded by idiots? _

"Looks like you're hired douchebag," he said, finally returning his attention to the duck in front of them. "But only under one condition."

Reggie shifted his head to the side narrowing his eyes at the group. "Like what?" he questioned suspiciously.

The menacing mallard grinned for the first time since the interviews had started, "We gotta metal you up some boy."

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><p>Oh gee, I wonder what they will do to him.<p>

Well there you have it, chapter 1! Just to reiterate, these are not supposed to be the canon characters. They are counterparts of my own design so if they seem out of character at all I don't give a crap :P they're supposed to be. Also this **will** be slash eventually, so if you don't like get out now.

Now honk if you liked my story.


	2. The Hothouse

Author's Note: Yay chapter 2! This took way more work to finish than I expected but there you have it, I have officially written a multi-chapter story. Go me! There are still things about this chapter that bother me so this will probably get rewritten eventually, but for now I'm sick of lookin' at it. Enjoy!

I still don't own anything. .. and I'm still broke.

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><p>The frigid twilight hours were soon to give way to darkness as the black clouds began to spread themselves across the softly lit sky of St. Canard. Among the shaded, hazy streets, the unfortunate patrons who could not afford the luxury to survive stood little chance against the heinous residents that were more characteristic of the twisted city. They did not abide by the rules of the outside world, blissfully separated from the realm beyond by the inky bay surrounding them.<p>

Thousands of loyal fans crowded around the immense manor in the center of their glorious city. News of their idols always spread quickly and they all knew that the latest bassist had finally been chosen. The success of the selection prompted the surrounding mass into a ritual riot, their own unique form of customary celebration, as they waited for the group to produce the newest member for their inspection. Their waiting would go on in vain for the band had long since left for destinations unknown, but they would wait on as long as it took and their numbers would only fortify as the time passed.

Far from the unruly center, on the darkest edge of the elated city, five figures treaded through the dead wood forest— the only likeness of nature yet remaining in the poisoned city. Moments after the audition had ended and Reggie's contract was officially signed, the oddly match group had set out through the hordes into the deepest recesses of the deranged metropolis; a place few ventured.

The five members made their way through the misty woods to an end only their lord and master knew. It had been at least an hour since the trek began and the group now came upon a rocky rise, offering the first decent look they had received of the expanse before them.

"What are we doing out here again?" Elmo questioned with a scratch to his head as he paused to observe the diming landscape.

"We're gonna fix the douche Sparky," Jack answered stopping beside the rodent to use him for support as he pulled a stray twig from his red boot. "Better fix him good too," he mumbled in addition as he flicked the annoying piece of wood into the trees.

"We got a new douche?"

Jack glanced at his friend, grinning wickedly. "Yes, yes we did."

"Hmm….. So why are we out here again?"

"We're going there moron."

The deep voice from behind them drew the attention of both guitarists as Negaduck made his way towards the spot where the two were currently overlooking the landscape. He paused only a second to breathe deeply before sliding his way down the stony face of the small plateau in a remarkably smooth manner.

The trailing bassist at the back of the group looked out to where the mallard had indicated. In the distance rose a strangely shaped structure: some forgotten dwelling of glass and steel. The last rays of daylight that pushed through the smog danced along the shining sides of the far-off building. Reggie lifted a brow at the divulgence of information.

_What a weird destination_, he thought distrustfully.

He could feel his left hand starting to quiver of its own accord; he shook the appendage slightly before reaching into his coat to produce another smoke. He seriously hoped their little fieldtrip would end before he ran out of cigarettes. An annoyed groan from Jack soon brought his attention to the pair standing a few feet away.

"Why do we have to do this nooow?" the jester whined, trudging down the rise they had been perched upon to follow the mallard who was currently hacking his way through the dead foliage just for the fun of it.

"Because a severe storm is on the way shit-for-brains," the singer replied without pausing his slashing. "And we're gonna need a lot of juice."

Elmo's normally flat ears shot upright as the information settled in his brain. "You mean it's gonna RAIN?!" he gasped, pulling his hands to his chest and jumping behind Jack as though he would shield him from the coming moisture.

"What kind of thunderstorm doesn't have any fucking rain?!" Negaduck spat over his shoulder.

The growing force of clouds chose that moment to let forth a bang of nearing thunder. It was as though the sky itself was set to do the mallard's bidding. The gentle light of the waning sun was quickly extinguished by the gathering storm clouds, leaving little illumination to guide the group through the dying foliage.

"Well there's your storm boss," Bud stated as he flowed lazily through the lifeless trees.

Reggie raised a brow at the shifting puddle, blue eyes following his graceful movements through the dying trunks. There was something strangely captivating about the way he moved around: so effortless and oddly elegant.

A small sizzle brought the distracted duck's gaze to the shining tip of his cigarette. A second sizzle left the bright orange bud useless to its owner causing Reggie to scowl at the sky as it began to let forth more rain. The wet canine that had previously been weaving absently through the forest was soon at his side, looking into the darkness with him.

"Going to be a good one," he said distantly, a grin snaking across his watery features.

Bud glanced perceptively over to the cringing rodent a few feet ahead of them, putting a dripping arm out to stop Reggie as he went to move forward. "_Might_ wanna wait a minute," he said softly.

The annoyed duck cast an aggravated glare at the drummer, but before he could say anything, the promised severity of the storm made itself known. The entire quintet was soon soaked quite sufficiently, the resulting downpour causing Elmo's knees to buckle beneath him, his collision with the already drenched ground sending out a vicious shock of electricity into the surrounding area as he convulsed.

Reggie shuddered more from the screech let out by the other than the slight jolt that was delivered through his poorly insulated shoes. Bud's head shook slightly as the residual voltage made its way through his liquid body, sending shining sparks across his torso and through the tips of his watery locks. Only Jack stayed near his friend as he was forcibly drained of his electricity. He was far too accustomed to the jolts to be fazed by such an indirect shock.

Negaduck cackled as Elmo's spasms finally stopped and the rodent groaned miserably. "That never gets old," he cackled as he returned to the trail in front of them.

The still sparking guitarist flipped the duck off halfheartedly as Jack helped him stand on shaky legs.

"This happen often?" Reggie questioned the dog beside him.

"Meh," Bud replied with a shrug, "Only when we happen get stuck in the rain. Or he collides with me… or Negs just douses him for the fun of it… Actually, now that you mention it, it does kinda happen a lot," he laughed, slopping his way after the others.

A quizzical expression was the canine's only answer as he slipped into the cold night ahead of the bassist. Reggie shook his head at the departing dog, "Christ I need a smoke," he muttered softly to himself.

Reggie couldn't help the shiver that ran through his slim body as their journey continued through the dreary forest. The long black coat that shrouded his figure was heavy with the water it had absorbed causing it to drag behind him and cling to his thin frame. The garment was quickly making the already irritating trek through the decrepit forest even harder, sufficiently irritating Reggie with its sopping threads. He shook his unruly mess of hair in a vain attempt to rid himself of some of the infuriating liquid that clung to his body.

A sharp zap to his right brought his focus momentarily to the unhappy rat nearby. He couldn't help but feel somewhat sorry for the shaking rodent; he did look rather pathetic. Through the shadows, he could see him muttering to himself, arms wrapped around his bare torso for some semblance of the warmth that his precocious voltage normally provided.

"Severe thunderstorm my ass," Reggie could hear him mumble, "A little lightning would be nice!" he yelled, shaking a fist at the murky sky.

As though the clouds could hear his turmoil, a glistening bolt split the sky, spreading its blinding light across the grey clouds.

"Finally!" the now elated Elmo cried throwing his arms into the air excitedly and running off into the dead trees.

A most confused Reggie swept his bangs back to try and spot where the rat had run off to. "Where the hell is he going?" he asked to no one in particular.

"Oh, the highest point in the near vicinity I imagine," Bud answered matter-of-factly moving sinuously to stand beside the shivering mallard. "He's basically a human lightning rod ya know."

The confused bassist turned to the dog beside him cocking an eyebrow at the answer. "So, he's _trying_ to get struck by lightning?"

"Comon you beautiful black abyss you! Gimme your best shot!"

"Well guess that answers that," Reggie muttered, ignoring any answer Bud may have offered.

As the bolts grew in power and quantity, they slipped across the turbulent sky like electric fingers reaching for the rodent standing atop one of the more massive trees. He gripped the precarious perch tightly in gloved hands, slender tail cast out behind him to help keep his balance. The massive strike that hit him split the unfortunate tree, illuminating Elmo's fur with delicate sparks and filling his body with a nutrient as precious to the rat's survival as any sustenance. The resulting force if the impact threw Elmo's body from the now obliterated branches leaving him in a sparking, near-orgasmic heap on the ground. The disbelief was blatantly evident on Reggie's face as he observed the spectacle. Never before in his life had he seen anything quite like it. Rumors of the rat's electrical obsession did not do him justice.

"Ooooh, yeah… that's the stuff," Elmo moaned, grinning stupidly as he lifted his pleasantly twitching body into a sitting position. He didn't even care that his still waterlogged surroundings were already stealing his current away again.

"Damn baby, you hot," Jack chortled as he put a finger to the rodent's shoulder, giggling as it sizzled.

Elmo's mumbled reply went unnoticed by the playful drake as he lifted the other to his feet. Jack slipped his hand along the rodent's chest, relishing in the way the sparks danced along his fingers as he twined them in the drenched fur.

"Have I ever told you how sexy you are when you're sopping wet and _siiinged_?" the jester purred, wrapping one arm around the other's slender waist to keep his shuddering, unsteady friend upright while the other twirled Elmo's soft tail between his fingers.

Reggie was almost tempted to grin at the display the two presented. The tentative show of amusement was exhibited only by the small twitch at the edge of his bill.

"So they really are…" he hesitated turning to Bud as he considered the information he had gathered only hours earlier, "You know," he finished, resisting the urge to give any relationship between the two a set title.

Bud glanced at the duck beside him before laughing heartily at the question. "Well, let's put it this way," he answered, "They're just as likely to fight as fuck. But if you're referring to certain rumors… well, I think the answer to that is pretty obvious," he finished with a grin.

Reggie turned towards the other momentarily before looking back at the stumbling, embracing duo. "Yeah. I suppose so."

"Hurry up assholes! We're almost there," Negaduck called from ahead of them: already fed up with waiting for the other four to catch up.

The statement dredged up nerves Reggie had been trying to ignore. He had been attempting to convince himself since his audition had ended that he wasn't concerned about what they were planning to do to him. But as they neared the enigmatic destination, Reggie began to shake from more than just the cold rain. He ground his teeth angrily, crossing his arms tightly over his chest in an attempt to force some of the trembling to stop.

The brooding duck jolted as he felt the sweep of a certain wet limb on his shoulder. The canine was hardly visible through the bleak rain and darkness, but Reggie could still make out the soft grin the other was giving him. He was surprised to find that the dog's temperature was comfortably warm compared to the bitter rain. Reggie hated to admit that the gentle touch stopped some of his shuddering.

"Well at least someone's in their element," he griped feebly, cursing at his chattering teeth.

He could swear he heard the dog chuckle in response but it was nearly impossible to tell for sure through the sound of the rain around him.

"You don't have to worry you know," Bud said, removing his hand slowly from Reggie's already wet shoulder. "Negs is nuts but he won't let you die just yet."

"Who said I was worried!" Reggie snapped defensively.

This time he was sure the drummer laughed at him. Reggie narrowed his eyes at the chuckling dog, clenching his teeth angrily.

"Something funny, _Bud_?" he growled.

"Don't be a pussy Reggie. They had to metal me up too," Bud replied with a wink.

The comment only served to make the bassist more uneasy. _If they did that to him, what are they going to do to me? _He forced the thought from his head as he moved to follow Bud. _Doesn't really matter anyway._

As they neared the dilapidated building, Reggie could just make out the structure thanks to the random flashes of lightning and the dim glow from the city at their backs. Now that they were closer, he could recognize it as a worn out greenhouse, a truly curious addition to the surrounding landscape. It was somehow reminiscent of a horror movie: an abandoned homage to times long past. Despite his troubled thoughts, Bushroot's feet continued to carry him after the others, moving him relentlessly towards his fate.

Negaduck was the first to reach the building's towering doors. He looked to the top of the structure as he paused to be sure the others were behind him. The lightning crash that lit the massive doors of the greenhouse spread the mallard's shadow menacingly across the crystalline surface, his red eyes casting a slight glow against the glass. He didn't even have to open the doors of the neglected hothouse, the substantial amount of missing glass panels making it possible to slip inside without trying to force the rusted hinges to grant them admittance.

Elmo was more than happy to bolt through one of the open spaces, not even waiting for the singer to enter before he freed himself from the unforgiving rain. Jack summersaulted giddily into the hole the rat had disappeared through, following right behind his playmate. Bud snorted in amusement as he moved towards the building, laughing wetly at the resulting grunt and disapproving gripes let out by Elmo as the duck landed on top of him. Reggie paid little attention to the exchange as he gazed up at the surprisingly tall structure. If he didn't know better he would swear that the building was staring him down… waiting for him.

"While I'm still young Bushroot!" an impatient Negaduck called from within the structure.

The bassist shook his head as the other mallard's calls pulled him from his hypnotized state. He stared through the open gap in front of him, hesitating a moment before bending to slide his lanky frame through the opening. None of his new band mates were evident through the darkness, only the quiet sounds of their voices gave any clue to where they were. Muffled swears came from the shadows in the far corner in the room where Negaduck was attempting to get the florescent lights overhead to work.

"Get over here and make these fucking lights work Sparks!" he yelled, kicking at some unseen object in his frustration.

"Heh, sure I'd love to boss, but uh… where the hell are ya?" the drained rodent asked, chuckling slightly.

"Morons. I'm surrounded by morons," Negaduck muttered quietly, rubbing between his eyes. "Just take your damn glasses off!"

"Oh yeeah. Heh."

The removal of the shades gave away the rat's position in the most unexpected of manners. As the black-tinted glasses were removed, shining circles of electrical brilliance were revealed. Reggie had to look twice to be sure of what he was seeing as the small points of pale blue light made their way across the building.

_So he sees in the dark too huh? Damn rat's just full of surprises. _

A loud bang sounded into the greenhouse as Elmo collided with some unfortunate piece of equipment. A soft grunt was the only response the guitarist offered. Several other crashes and mumbled oddities later, the lines of lights overhead flickered to life.

The resulting brightness of the florescent bulbs caused Reggie to squint his eyes against the assault. As he adjusted to the new level of illumination, he took a moment to take in his surroundings. The entire space was littered with various scientific instruments and gardening supplies. The many different varieties of flora had long since passed from the living world, the passage of time leaving them as mere husks of what they once were.

Far above the dying foliage, the storm was still raging, the heavy moisture raining steadily through the large opening in the slanted roof. Among the many dusty and rusted resident objects, only one fixture really stood out. Just beneath the opening in the celling was what appeared to be some type of surgical table. Connected to the ominous slab was a massive machine, a dusty device of mysterious intent. Reggie really didn't like how his new job was starting out.

With the aid of the light, Reggie could once again observe his fellow band members. In the corner the still grumbling singer was poking through a rather impressive electrical box slicing wires with his large knife and reconnecting them in different patterns. Beside him Elmo shook his body in a way much akin to a dog trying to dry itself. He gave a final flick of his tail to remove some of the water clinging to the tip of the delicate appendage before returning to help Negaduck with the rewiring. Reggie couldn't help but snort slightly at how much faster Elmo accomplished it.

Negaduck didn't seem too concerned; he simply turned away from the case allowing the other to continue alone as he searched through a nearby container. The brief search produced several hefty electrical cords which he threw unceremoniously onto the dirt, spreading their black coils along the ground. Without a word, he returned to the where he had been standing by the guitarist so that he could begin connecting the wires to those already hanging from Elmo's torso. There was a familiarity about the action leading Reggie to believe this was not the first depraved device that he had used the rat to power.

"Are you done yet?" he asked impatiently as he finished connecting the various cables to the oblivious rodent.

"Uh… done with what?" Elmo asked, turning his head towards the other.

"The wires dumbass!"

"Oooh! Heh, yeah totally."

"Good. Now get up there and get me some juice," the mallard replied pushing the wire-clad rat towards the ladder that scaled the side of the mechanism.

Elmo's pitiful groan attested to how badly he wanted to be back in the rain, but he didn't dare argue. "When I get home, I'm plugging into my favorite outlet and I'm not movin' until I combust from electrical overload," he muttered as he ascended the precarious rungs, flinching occasionally as the rain hit him.

Reggie moved further into the room, watching the guitarist as he moved towards the inky sky. Below the voltage junkie, Negaduck continued to fiddle with various things on the machine, giving it a final kick to make it run. As the impressive mechanism whirled to life, a beautiful display of lights spread themselves across its front. Negaduck grinned in satisfaction at the now operational device, glancing up to be sure Elmo was in position. His grin only grew in girth and gratification at the sight of the shaking, miserable rat gripping the base of the roof's tarnished grounding rod.

"You ready up there Sparky?" he called amusedly at the shuddering rodent.

"This sucks serious balls boss!" he replied grouchily.

"Stop being a bitch volt-breath! I shouldn't even _have_ to ask you to get struck by lightning."

"Yeah… that part will be pretty cool."

The singer's brow twitched indignantly at the idiocy surrounding him as a sharp throb to his temple reminded him that his hangover was still present. "Let's just get this over with," he snarled, his previously decent mood already diminishing.

Negaduck snapped his fingers curtly at the drummer who had slipped unnoticed behind the gawking bassist. Reggie hadn't moved more than a few inches towards the table before he felt the dog behind him grip his coat, pushing his shoulder forward with his free hand so that the garment was removed smoothly as the mallard's footing faltered. A sour frown settled on his face as he found himself clad only in his black pants and worn out boots. Before he could turn to confront the dripping menace, the other man's figure twisted around him so that he could grin smugly at the perturbed duck as he backed towards the setup in front of them.

Reggie hardly noticed his own uncomfortable shifting as he stared at the metal tabletop; he felt exposed without the false sense of safety that his coat provided. He put his hands habitually to his chest, searching in vain for his precious cigarettes. A low growl sounded in response to the missing box. If he didn't get a smoke soon there were going to be some serious problems. Yellow-tinted eyes widened as a heavy breathing registered beside him. Reggie narrowed his eyes irately, shifting his gaze over to the grinning mallard currently huffing in his ear.

Jack's smile widened to impressive proportions as he gained the other's attention. "Ready to get fucked up Reeegie?" he asked whimsically.

"Uhh.."

"Ahh, that's a yes!" Jack interrupted, grabbing the slim duck by both arms and pushing him crudely onto the table.

Reggie gasped harshly as the wind was pushed from his lungs at the rough collision. Before the disoriented duck could even fully register what was going on, both his arms and legs had been shackled to the table by Negaduck and Bud leaving him immobile and thoroughly displeased. He glared furiously at the drummer currently locking his wrists to the cold table. Bud merely smiled in return, his cool hands leaving wet trails down the mallard's shaking fists.

"Is this really necessary?" Reggie questioned angrily through his clenched teeth.

"Yes," was the only reply as Negaduck pulled a menacing-looking attachment from the apparatus.

Without warning he snapped the shackle over the other duck's bicep, twisting a bolt at the base to secure the ring. Reggie hissed at the pain the metallic cuff caused as it was attached to his upper arm. Dozens of long metal spines tore into his muscles, forcing an eerie coldness into his now bleeding skin. He shot a scowl briefly at the singer, hiding his distress behind the cold stare. His chest began to rise and fall more irregularly as the other duck finished the final preparations. The shallow breathing was hardly notable to those not looking for it.

Bud saw.

He slipped his fingers subtly across the other's shuddering arm, smirking at the way it soothed the other without him even noticing. A sharp crash of lightning just above the condemned conservatory brought liquid eyes to focus on the currently glowing rat. The massive strength of the bolt the struck him forced every hair on his body to stand erect as the electricity leapt along his moist fur. Bud backed away from Reggie's side as the current began to pour through the many wires. His face fell into a blank mask as he watched the electricity flow into the duck on the table. He was suddenly unsure of how to feel.

All Reggie would recall from the experience was pain. A merciless agony that racked his whole body, burning and festering like a terrible cancer. His screams blocked out all but the crackle of voltage pouring from the euphoric rodent hanging above him. The few moments that it took to complete the process felt like an eternity to the tortured mallard; it was as though time itself was being forced to extend infinitely just to torment him.

All at once, more abruptly than the process had started, the screams grew quiet. Blue eyes stared and bill parted in silent cries as Reggie's back arched off the table calling notice to his already prominent ribs. As the voltage ebbed away, the fatigued bird's body laid itself lifelessly against the hard surface beneath him. Heavy lids slid themselves over drained blue orbs, hiding the world from Reggie's fatigued mind. It didn't hurt so much anymore. It felt like a soothing burn; a gentle laceration: a contradiction of feeling that the exhausted duck could hardly understand.

Within moments consciousness was fully stolen from the bassist, leaving him unresponsive on the cold slab. Elmo had long since fallen through the open roof landing in Jack's outstretched arms. The collision left the two entwined on the floor, the wattage coming from Elmo sparking against the metal bells at the end of the jester's hat. Jack giggled at his flickering, smirking friend, falling back against the floor to allow his fellow guitarist to lie on top of him.

"Sweeet," Elmo mumbled grinning contently.

Negaduck looked triumphantly at the smoking machinery, smoothing his hand through the feathers on his head. "Well, now that that shit's finally over let's getting the hell outta here so I can pass the fuck out," he said before turning towards the opening that would lead him out. "Get the bassist drip-face," he added over his shoulder as he slipped from the greenhouse; he obviously had no intention of waiting for any of them this time around.

"Nooot faaiir," Elmo whined as Jack pulled his worn-out body off the floor. His legs shook uncontrollably as he was forced to his feet.

Without the jester's support he would have little chance of going anywhere.

Jack glanced between the rain outside and the quivering rodent considering his options. "Hmm," he hummed turning to the drummer who was currently detaching the motionless duck from the machine beside him. "We're gonna hang back Buddy boy. I think Mo's gonna blow a fuse if he ends soggy again anytime soon," he said lowering Elmo back to the ground.

"Whatever," Bud replied pulling Reggie into his wet arms after covering him hastily with his treasured coat.

He didn't care much what the others did at that point. He suddenly felt rather peculiar and there was nothing more he wanted at that moment than to leave the broken-down building and get home so he could drown the emotions in his favorite beverage.

As he stepped back into the night, he could see that the rain was already beginning to ease back, leaving little more than a light scatter to fall upon the surrounding countryside. The icy night air was oddly calming to the liquid dog. He seemed to need the long solitude that the journey back provided. It was actually quite relieving that he never ran into Negaduck. He was starting to question things, things he's never questioned before, and the avian's evil presence would have only served to make things worse. Bud glanced at the emaciated duck in his arms to investigate his condition. Beads of sweat melded with the drops of rain soaking into Reggie's pale plumage as his labored breaths were stolen by the cold night. The blood still pouring from his laceration dripped inaudibly to the ground leaving a red trail behind them.

"You really are an idiot you know," he muttered, eyeing the wound on Reggie's arm. "You shoulda just stayed where you were."

Bud did his best to ignore the sleeping mallard for the rest of the trip, more content to deal with his troubling thoughts. When he finally arrived back within the paved streets he was accustomed to, he was greeted by the glimmering of dozens of celebratory fires and the jubilant cries of their still partying fans. He was relieved to find their usual limo waiting for him. Negaduck must have already made it back otherwise it wouldn't be there. Bud was grateful for the stillness of the ride home, his strangely foul mood eased slightly by the seclusion. At least the trip was short, impeded only by the loyal patrons crowding the streets. Bud sighed as the elaborate vehicle finally made its way into one of the many lower-level entryways of the towering building.

The familiarity of home left the dog feeling uncharacteristically tired. His watery legs felt horribly heavy as he carried the duck to the room traditionally set aside to house their fleeting bassists. The darkness shielded most of the room from sight, but all he was interested in was the large bed only a few feet away. As he slipped the frail body in his arms into the plush bed, Bud couldn't resist the urge to study the duck for a moment. It would be interesting to see what the other would be when he woke. The thought that this was likely the last time he would see the mallard for what he really was seemed to urge him to memorize every detail of what he used to be.

The cooling, churning liquid of the curious drummer stretched itself out so that Bud could hold his dripping face over the sleeping bassist as he studied him. He snorted softly, pulling his body back as he grabbed the discarded trench coat from the floor. The liquid drummer slid silently across the room where he deposited the drenched coat on a dresser near the door. After a final glance to the slumbering mallard, he slipped silently out the door, leaving only a shimmering trail of water as evidence that he had ever been there at all.

From down the shaded hallway, red eyes followed the canine as he flowed through the dark corridor. "Have a good sleep Reginald," Negaduck whispered with a sinister grin as he watched Bud leave the room "It'll be the last peaceful one you ever get."


	3. Not What I Used to Be

Author's Note: Hmmmm… not sure how I feel about this chapter. It put me through a LOT of crap so at this point I'm just sick of lookin at it. So, enjoy the current bane of my existence!

Warnings: terrible plant puns.

* * *

><p>The first rays of dawn fought desperately against the smog surrounding the perpetually shrouded city, forcing their way into the still darkened suite where the Fearsome Five's most recent addition still slept.<p>

Within the dim room, Reggie stirred as the sunlight stroked against his face, coaxing him to consciousness. Blue eyes were pale with exhaustion, straining against the light to take in his surroundings. The bassist lifted himself heavily from the comfort of the oversized bed, groaning at the stiffness in his body. He put a hand to the wound on his arm as a sting of pain reminded him of its presence. Stiff fingers picked absently at the dried blood encrusting the feathers around the injury. He sure didn't feel like he had just slept for fourteen hours straight. Every inch of his body felt as though the energy had been forcibly drained from it. He didn't feel bad per say; it felt more like he would die from sheer exhaustion. Only the pale morning light filtering through the rips in the dark curtains offered any form of solace. If only Reggie had noticed that the scattered rays were the only thing that made him feel even remotely better.

"Good morning sleeping beauty."

Even as Reggie turned to the voice beside him, his movements were sluggish. Half-lidded eyes focused slowly on the dog sitting smugly in the chair by the far wall. Had the bassist been more aware he surely would have seen him sooner.

"Tell me you haven't been watching me all night," he grumbled, his horse voice barely above a whisper.

"Heh, don't flatter yourself Reggie. I was instructed to check on your... condition," Bud replied.

"And?"

"Well, you still look pretty normal to me," the drummer replied with a shrug.

"Hate to shatter your perception of reality there Bud, but I've never exactly been _normal_."

"You're kidding, right? Have you _seen_ who I live with? You're downright average compared to what I'm accustomed to," Bud chortled, his form bubbling in amusement.

"Yeah, ok," Reggie muttered, rubbing his hands along his weary eyes, "But I'm sure not used to it."

The drummer tipped his head quizzically at the drowsy duck, wondering if he should even bother to question the statement at that point. "Well, how do ya feel?" he questioned, deciding against any unnecessary inquiry.

"Still pretty fucked up… I need a smoke."

"Hmm, funny you should mention that since I took the liberty of obtaining some cigarettes for you. I couldn't tell what your brand was," Bud answered, lifting himself lazily from the now damp chair he had been resting in.

"That's probably because I roll my own. Never exactly had the funds to finance anything else before," Reggie answered, moving slowly to hang his legs over the side of the large bed.

Bud flowed to the plastic bag sitting on the dresser where the bassist's coat still resided, chucking one of the cellophane protected boxes onto the bed once he had retrieved it. For some reason he couldn't stop his eyes from flicking down to the other's now visible tail feathers. He wasn't sure why he couldn't take his eyes off the white plumage; it wasn't like he hadn't seen enough tail in his time.

The soft thud of the pack hitting the bed's black sheets prompted Reggie's attention to the small box. Even the simple movement of looking over his shoulder seemed difficult for the worn-out duck. Bud couldn't help but feel a bit bad for him. The bassist grabbed the pack, studying it for a moment before pulling the tab that removed the clear casing. The neat rows of cigarettes were a strangely fascinating sight for him. Real smokes had almost always been a luxury he couldn't afford.

His movements were almost apprehensive as he pulled one of the perfect tubes from the pack. Placing the cigarette in his mouth felt almost wrong, but Reggie needed a smoke so badly he could care less at the moment. Feathered hands searched his chest for the lighter he was accustomed to having within reach. His eyes widened as his fingers met his bare chest. He had to force the blush away at the realization that he had completely forgotten the coat had been removed.

"Uh," Reggie mumbled over his shoulder at the dripping dog behind him, "Wanna throw me my lighter there Bud?"

The drummer chuckled slightly at the strangely uncomfortable way the duck was acting. His wet arm reached back to the table, fishing in the trench coat's inner pocket for the small item. He considered just throwing the whole garment to Reggie as it was obviously a source of comfort, but he felt the need to observe the fidgety bird without it for just awhile longer. Once his search had produced the cheap, yellow lighter, he tossed it gently to rest beside the freshly opened cigarette pack. Bud was pretty sure the action received a mumbled a thank you, but he could hardly tell with the soft way the other said it. The cigarette was lit within seconds, and Reggie couldn't help but take a long, satisfied drag from it. After a moment, he pulled the tobacco from his mouth staring at the smoking stick with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Something wrong?" Bud questioned.

"No. I'm just…" Reggie trailed off, placing the cigarette in his mouth once again and inhaling deeply from it so he could hold the smoke in his lungs for a moment before letting it billow slowly from his beak. "Not used to filters," he finally finished.

Bud laughed slightly, moving to the other side of the bed so that he could pull the tattered curtains apart and let in the orange morning light. Reggie squinted at the sudden increase in illumination, shuddering slightly as the rays contacted his body.

_Damn that sun feels good._ He thought curiously.

"Well you can get whatever you want later," Bud said as he pulled the drapes away from the large window. "You certainly have the funds for it now."

Reggie glanced at the drummer's watery back briefly before pulling the smoldering stick quickly from his mouth and ripping the small filter from the end. He took another hit from the altered cigarette, grinning slightly at the delightful harshness of the unfiltered smoke.

_That's more like it._

"I doubt Negs will really let you go anywhere at this point but you can always just have someone…" Bud trailed off as he turned back towards his newest band mate, dark eyes widening as he regarded the duck in front of him.

"What?" Reggie questioned irately, glaring at the dog's sudden change in behavior.

"You're uh… lookin' a little green there Reg," Bud replied, rubbing at the back of his head.

"Oh, big news," he snapped, "I told you I still feel a little fucked up."

"No, I mean you're _literally_ green."

"Whaat?" Reggie said in disbelief, raising himself up so he could make his way to the large mirror nearby.

The still burning cigarette fell to the floor as he took in his appearance. The pale emerald tinge was subtle, but noticeable none the less. Reggie's mouth hung open at the sight as he slid his fingers slowly across his feathered face. After a moment of studying his own reflection in disbelief, he snapped his eyes over so that he could look at Bud in the mirror. He shifted his gaze back to his face, hands never leaving the tinted feathers.

"Get out," he whispered softly.

"Look Reggie, I don't think—"

"Just get out!" he yelled, dropping his hands to grip angrily at the table in front of him as he glared at the dog's reflection.

Bud didn't reply. He simply regarded the angry bassist for a moment before slipping silently from the room and closing the door behind him. Reggie sighed heavily as the other left, looking back to the mirror to scowl at his own reflection. A small hint of color brought his gaze the black nest he called his hair, immediately replacing his displeased expression with one of confusion. Among the raven strands, a small patch of abnormal color stuck through— the silken invaders almost seeming to shine against the deep black of his hair.

"What the hell?" Reggie questioned quietly, reaching up to grasp the soft purple filaments.

He winced slightly at the twinge of pain brought on by yanking at the oddities. _Great,_ he thought to himself, _this shit's attached._

He itched absently at the black hair surrounding the intruding follicles stopping only when he felt the strands loosen. His eyes widened, a dread-filled look meeting his gaze in the mirror as he pulled a clump of his thick mane from his head. The resulting yell brought Bud back into the room without as much as a courtesy knock.

"What the hell Reggie? Why'd you—whoa… what happened to your _hair_?" the now snickering puddle questioned as he took in the other's altered appearance.

The panicked duck was standing before the large mirror holding hunks of his once abundant locks. In their place, small clumps of bright purple strands were growing sporadically.

"What happened?! It's fucking falling out is what happened!" Reggie yelled furiously in response.

"I can see that," Bud muttered, looking the frantic duck over curiously. "You… feeling ok?" he finished awkwardly, unsure of what else to say.

The dumbfounded expression he gained in response told him that wasn't what Reggie wanted to hear.

"I look like a seasick circus performer with a balding problem! How do you think I feel?!" he yelled, yanking more chunks of his hair out harshly in his rage.

Bud had to hold back a chuckle at the comical picture the mallard painted. His mood became more serious as he noticed that Reggie's hair wasn't the only thing that was falling out. All over his body, patches of white feathers had been stripped away baring the skin beneath for his inspection. The flesh was a sickly shade of green, an odd change from Reggie's normally pigment-lacking appearance.

The drummer swallowed around the ill feeling in his wet throat: if anyone knew what it was like to experience such a drastic change, it was him. He moved toward the panicked duck gently so as not to make the other move away. A soft smile forced itself onto his dripping features, a subconscious attempt at comfort, as he slipped an arm around Reggie's angrily shaking shoulders.

"No worries Reg. I'm sure Negaduck wouldn't let you stay lookin' like this. We'll go get coffee.. and booze. Those make everything better," Bud said, moving the other towards the door once the disgruntled bird had collected his new pack of cigarettes.

Reggie grabbed his trench coat as they exited the room, pulling himself roughly from the watery embrace to slip into the security it provided. He could feel more of the deteriorating feathers being pulled out by the action. He couldn't help the slight wince that crossed his face at the feeling.

The trip to the kitchen was silent. Reggie distracted himself from his thoughts by observing the house as they moved to the lower level. The shady halls were much like the rest of the home: elaborate and littered with sinister designs. The kitchen itself was quite large, but rather unassuming compared to the rest of the manor that Reggie had so far seen. Upon entering they could see that the lead singer was already awake, ear pressed to his cell phone as he listened to an obviously irritating caller. He rubbed between his eyes as he listened, growing more pissed off by the minute.

"Look just get it done. And DON'T fucking call me again unless the world as we know it is about to end. YOU GOT THAT?!" he yelled, ending the call by smashing the defenseless phone on the counter he had been leaning against. As he registered that the others had entered the room, he looked over Reggie's ridiculous appearance with a cocked eyebrow and a slight grin. "What the fuck happened to you?" he asked, snorting in amusement at the other mallard.

"Apparently I have a balding problem," Reggie grumbled in response, ripping another filter from one of his new cigarettes before lighting it.

"Yeah well, you'd better hope it gets better. Cause you look like a fuckin' joke right now," the singer replied, still snickering slightly.

The bassist snarled at the infuriating bird, part of him snapping at the comment. He opened his mouth to say something that obviously would have infuriated the still smirking mallard when Bud decided to interfere.

"Why don't we just go get some fresh air Reg," Bud interjected to stop the angry duck from getting himself into trouble.

Reggie jumped as the drummer placed an arm to his back, jerking harshly away from the other's touch. Bud couldn't help but feel a bit put-off by the action.

"Whatever," Reggie muttered, wrapping his arms around himself tightly as he moved toward the large balcony that came off of the kitchen.

Negaduck narrowed his eyes at the pair; something told him he needed to keep an eye on the most recent addition to their little "family." He followed silently behind them, giving a warning look when the drummer shot him a glance over his shoulder. Bud turned away quickly, unwilling to face the stare the other was giving him.

Almost immediately upon stepping into the world beyond, Reggie felt a surge of something quite inexplicable. The strange strands of hair that had taken the place of his once abundant mane grew quickly as the sunlight seemed to seep into every crevice of his body. He gasped at the feeling, shudders running throughout his body at the unexpectedly enjoyable feeling the sun provided. He'd never felt so good. Shaky knees gave out beneath him, bringing his slim body to the ground. The trembles grew in intensity and pleasure as he soaked in the life-giving rays. His bill parted in ecstasy to allow a hesitant groan forth. Had he been in his right mind he may have stopped to be embarrassed.

Bud watched the practically orgasmic duck smugly, grin widening on his face as he observed the spectacle. It was certainly not what he had expected.

"Well now, isn't that interesting," Negaduck said quietly to himself as he approached the kneeling duck.

He gripped the black coat covering the other tightly, pulling it roughly away from Reggie's body so that he could observe exactly what was happening to him. Before his eyes, the once subtle color that covered the duck deepened to a brilliant green. Already slim arms shrank to unnatural proportions and once feathered fingers melded together in a painful-looking display. The few remaining patches of plumage were pushed from green skin as the change became more aggressive. Wooded talons forced themselves through the feeble material of Reggie's boots, lending a strangely menacing look to the transformation.

Negaduck grinned evilly, thoroughly pleased at the progression of the transformation. _Now that's more like it,_ he thought to himself as he dropped the trench coat to the floor. The drummer at his side supported a less enthralled expression as he watched Reggie's tail feathers fall from his backside, leaves quickly growing in their place. He was going to miss that tail.

The tremors wracking Reggie's body grew in severity as the alterations finished. He pressed his sweating forehead to the marble tiles covering the balcony floor, panting as the trembling began to subside. Reggie breathed deeply for a moment to compose himself before moving his newly strengthened frame into a sitting position. Lavender bangs were slicked against his damp face, framing blue eyes in a colorful manner that seemed ill-suited to the moody bassist. The expression that formed on Reggie's face in response to the changes was somewhere between shock and disgust. He examined his leafy hands, forcing his face back into a neutral mask as he fumed internally at the sudden lack of fingers.

_Well that's just fuckin' great,_ he thought angrily.

Negaduck laughed slightly as he began to roam around the mutant, taking in his new appearance thoughtfully. "Well, it's a little colorful for my taste, but no one can say you're not interesting now," he said, smirking at the fruits of his latest devious deed.

"I'll say," Bud muttered, "You turned him into a walking salad bar."

The singer shrugged, turning away from the others as he turned to reenter the manor. "Yeah well, you don't exactly fit in with this crowd without looking like a freak show."

Bud could still hear the mallard laughing to himself as he moved into the kitchen, but he ignored him in favor of observing Reggie. The shocked duck was still staring at his hands despondently, apparently oblivious the world around him. After a moment he lifted his arms, moving his eyes along the thin appendages before shifting his legs out from under him to inspect the talons now protruding from his boots. He pressed his heels against the ground, easily slipping the worn, oversized shoes from his feet so that he could get a better look at the wooded toes. A sudden thought struck the mallard as he took in the sight of his bark-covered legs. He pulled the waist of his pants away from his smooth, green skin eyes widening at the lack of a certain well-loved body part.

"Oh, no fucking way!" he yelled, practically shaking with rage.

Bud had to stifle a laugh at the long string of obscenities that fell from the bassist's mouth at the unfortunate observation. He had to admit he had been none too happy about losing his own little friend—not that he hadn't found ways to make up for the loss. He flowed behind the panicked duck slipping his hands beneath the other's vine-like arms so that he could lift him to his feet. He grabbed Reggie's black coat from the ground as an afterthought as he guided the still fuming mallard back into the manor.

"Don't worry Reg," he said trying to calm the other down, "You're a plant for fuck's sake. I'm sure you can just grow yourself some hard wood if necessary." Bud couldn't help but snicker slightly at his own pun, but the furious glare from the duck at his side quickly whipped the grin from his face. "What? Too soon?" he questioned innocently.

Reggie wrenched himself roughly away from the other in response snatching his trench coat from the watery grip as he stormed over to the circular dining table near the large windows overlooking the city. Bud sighed slightly at the lack of humor the duck possessed. _Someone really needs to loosen that boy up,_ he thought as he moved to one of the many cabinets situated on the room's walls. He searched quickly through the cupboards to find the precious liquid that he knew could be found within their inky depths. The staff knew to always keep the kitchen well stocked with alcohol.

The drummer shivered happily at the introduction of the intoxicating molecules into his liquid form, the dark liquor mingling with his water and lending him a slightly amber tint. Bud glanced across the room at the still sneering bassist now sitting at the table. His focus shifted as Negaduck snapped his fingers at him, gesturing for the bottle in his hand. The duck poured a generous amount of the whiskey into his otherwise plain coffee once it had been handed over. He grinned in satisfaction at the mix of caffeine and intoxicant now present in the cup.

Bud glanced back at the mutated mallard sitting across the room suddenly curious about the change. "So, Negs," he questioned, "One thing I don't really get. Why a plant?"

Negaduck shrugged in response, taking a long drink from the whiskey bottle before answering. "Hey, there isn't exactly a surplus of mutation devices in the near vicinity and I can't be expected to use my genius to mutate _every_ halfway decent bassist we end up with. I just took what I could get."

"What… exactly, did that, THING do to me?" Reggie decided to question, focusing angry eyes on the pair still standing by the far counter as he waited for an answer.

"Hell if I know, don't you listen? Not my fuckin' machine," Negaduck replied irately.

"Well, it sucked," Reggie muttered lighting yet another cigarette to try and ease his foul mood.

"I'll bet. But if Elmo and faireboy ever decide to grace us with their presence, I'm sure tonight's activity will be more to your liking," Negaduck replied, handing the bottle back to Bud, "Where the hell are those two dimwits anyway?" he grumbled as an afterthought, shifting his eyes around the room.

"Must still be at that greenhouse," Bud replied, pausing to drink deeply from the newly reacquired bottle. "Mo wasn't exactly too keen on leaving last night."

"Well they'd better get their asses back here soon," Negaduck growled as he poured more coffee into his now empty mug.

It didn't take long before the pair in question finally decided to rejoin their band mates. They could be heard from all the way down the hall as they made their way to the kitchen, the giggling duo entering the room with little stealth. Elmo was practically hanging off of his snickering companion, making him look quite intoxicated. Reggie stared in disbelief, the others were accustomed to this sort of behavior and they were well aware that the rodent only acted drunk so early because he lacked sufficient electricity.

It took a moment for the two to realize that the others were even present. For the first few seconds they were silent as they looked at their fellow band members. The reaction they provided only worsened Reggie's mood. Elmo broke out in laughter, pointing at the flowery bassist with one hand as the other gipped the bird beside him in an attempt to stay upright. Jack seemed momentarily unable to produce a reaction; he simply stared, jaw dropped and a stupid grin on his face.

"Ho-ly crap Reggie," he finally said, holding the snorting, unstable guitarist at his side tightly to keep him from falling over. "Lookin'gooood," he finished with a wink.

"Well at least he's interesting now," Elmo offered once his giggles had subsided. He stumbled away from his fellow guitarist, moving toward the long counter at the back of the kitchen shakily.

"He certainly is," Jack agreed, moving to stand in front of the bassist now that he wasn't needed to support his friend. "I mean, he still looks like a douche. But his ugly levels have certainly decreased," he said, snickering to himself.

"Gee, thanks for noticing," Reggie mumbled angrily.

A sharp zap from across the room caused the mallard to look over to where the resident rodent was currently shoving one of his many wires into the outlet. His sagging hair immediately stood on end, returning abruptly to its normally spiked state. Elmo shivered happily at the surge, moving sluggishly to sit at the table beside Reggie. His laughing resumed as he seemed to notice the freshly mutated duck once again. The green of Reggie's face deepened at the continued degradation. He was getting sick of being such a source of amusement to everyone.

"Alright, shut up and sit down! We got shit to discuss and we're already behind waiting for you two assholes," Negaduck snapped, grabbing a pile of papers from the counter.

"I still can't believe you actually slept out there," Bud said shifting fluidly into one of the tall chairs situated at the long island near the table where the others were congregating.

"Pfft, who slept?" Jack said with a devious side-glance to his partner-in-crime.

Elmo couldn't help but grin stupidly in response.

Jack plopped himself unceremoniously into the chair beside his fellow guitarist, resting both elbows on the table as he observed the plant duck across from them.

"What?!" Reggie snapped at the other once he could no longer stand the annoying observation.

"Reggie the veggie," Jack said distantly, "I'm _lichen_ the new look," he finished as he snickered at the other.

"Heh, you shoulda seen him earlier," Negaduck snorted as he rifled through the papers.

"You mean he was uglier than this earlier?" Jack asked a slightly disappointed look on his face. "Now I'm sad we didn't get back in _thyme_ to see that. Are you _re-leaved _that you're so pretty nowReggie?" he said, twining his fingers together so he could rest his chin on them as he batted his lashes at the perturbed duck.

"Oh, shut up already… it's not even that funny," Reggie muttered putting his cigarette out on the metal tabletop with more force that was probably necessary.

"Actually, it is a _little_ funny," Negaduck said with a slight snigger, never taking his eyes from the documents he was still searching through. "Because it annoys you. A lot."

"Yeah, _yew_ shouldn't be such a sap Reggie," Elmo added snickering nasally at his surprisingly successful play on words.

"Ooo, nice one. But careful Mo Mo, he might get a little.. hosta."

Jack and Elmo finally broke down into a round of uncontrollable laughter at the angry green tone that spread itself across Reggie's face.

"Alright assholes, if everyone is quite finished making stupid puns," Negaduck snarled over the incessant giggling as he began to circle the table.

"Hey, I had more. But go on," Jack interjected as he attempted to get his sniggering under control.

He winced slightly at the hard slap that was delivered to the back of his head.

"As I was _saying_," the singer continued harshly "If everyone is FINISHED being a moron. I think it's time we gave those dear people outside what they've been waiting for."

The smirk he gave Reggie made the duck shiver slightly. He didn't think he could take much more at the moment.

* * *

><p>Ugh, so many things I'd change about this, but I wrote it so it probably looks worse to me than anyone else xD so anyway, next chapter coming soon!<p> 


	4. The Haunt

Author's Note: I apologize in advance for anything that may be off about this chapter. It's gonna make my eyes bleed if I look at it anymore so I now proclaim it good enough!

Enjoy

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><p>In the streets, the throngs of fans were a flurry of anticipation. The masses had waited diligently for hours and they were starting to grow tired of the delay. As the wait stretched on, their actions grew in urgency and devastation, forcing the vast metropolis into a frenzy of destructive exploits. As the morning began to wane to midday, the streets lit with a malevolent air that hung heavy in the streets threatening to tare the city apart at its seams. Negaduck thrived off the chaos. He derived sick pleasure from their turmoil, but even he had better things to do at that point than make them wait just for the sheer amusement of it. At last the long stretch of time they had so far waited was to be rewarded, or so it seemed.<p>

Within the mysterious manor, the five members had already spent several excruciating hours trying to sort out their course of action for the next few months. Everything from the extensive list of bass lines that Reggie had to memorize to Jack's bad habit of leaving his various 'toys' scattered around the house had been discussed. It had gotten to the point that no one was really paying attention to what Negaduck had to say anymore. Jack was practically to the point that bashing his head against the table was more appealing than spending another moment listening to the lead member talk. Even Reggie was glad when the other mallard finally wrapped up his little speech.

"Any questions assholes?" Negaduck grumbled.

It seemed even he had grown tired of the conversation. If the mallard barking orders at the others could be called a conversation.

"Yeah," Jack said lifting his head from the table, "Are you done yet?"

He yelped in pain as Negaduck slammed his large bill back against the hard surface it had just risen from. "Owww, my face! My beautiful, beautiful face," he whimpered, rubbing at his beak pathetically.

The soft snickers of the rat beside him caused him to glare at his friend. He stuck his tongue out at the other when the chuckles didn't stop.

"Alright ladies that's enough!" Negaduck interrupted. "Time to give the people what they want."

He shot a glance at Reggie, smirking slightly as he strode from the room. The others simply stared after him for a moment as though unsure of what was going on.

"Well hurry it up you worthless freaks!" the singer finally called from down the hall.

The distant call immediately prompted a tandem reaction from the resident guitarists. Jack and Elmo shot a glance at each other before each of them jumped abruptly from their chairs in a mad dash towards the door. Elmo's initial lead in the impromptu race did not sit well with his companion, the immature jester latching onto Elmo's delicate tail in a childish attempt to come out ahead in their little game. Delighted cackles sounded at the loud smack produced as Elmo hit the floor.

"Jaack you dirty cheatin' whore!" the now riled rodent griped as he lifted himself swiftly from the floor to try and catch his duplicitous friend.

Reggie could hear the metal ends of his boots clanking against the ground as he chased the mad giggles down the corridor.

Reggie blinked quizzically as the pair scurried from the room. "Did I… _miss_ something?" he questioned, moving his chin from where it had been resting on his leafy palm.

Bud snorted slightly at the question as he slipped across the kitchen to deposit his long empty whiskey bottle on a nearby counter. "You have to be pretty attentive to not miss something with those two," he chuckled, "Gotta be careful around Jack or you're going to end up starting a game you may not want to play. Or _know_ you're playing for that matter."

Reggie simply produced a noncommittal hum in reply. Bud frowned slightly at the response. Sometimes he really wished he could hear what was going on in that head of his. To see what secrets were hidden behind that blank face.

"Come on Reg," he said after a moment, "We'd better get out there before the lord of all evil comes looking for you."

"Why? So he can parade me around in front of that maniacal mass like some kinda sideshow freak?" Reggie muttered, his expression suddenly filled with annoyance.

The fluid drummer at his side thought about this question for a moment, somewhat unsure how exactly he was supposed to reply. "You'll have to face them eventually Reggie," he pointed out, his voice quite as though he had just revealed some well-kept secret.

The bassist crossed his arms over his chest grumpily as he thought about this. Bud suddenly wondered if he had even considered the kind of position he had put himself in when he signed his contract. The drummer shook his head at the thought; he knew damn well that there was no way Reggie could have known the true extent of what he was getting into.

The dripping canine chuckled slightly, as though the simple action would distract him from his suddenly disturbing contemplations. "Come on Reg. My water's gonna go stagnant if I stand here much longer," he finally said.

Several moments passed before the brooding bassist finally pushed himself away from the table. Bud leaned against the door frame as he waited for the other to light his latest cigarette. Blue eyes focused questioningly on the water-dog as Reggie noticed the other waiting for him. Bud grinned, holding out his arm in a subtle invitation for the duck to exit first. As Reggie passed him, he made it a point not to touch the still ornery avian again. It was tempting, but he couldn't help but notice that it seemed to put the mallard extremely on edge every time he did it.

Bud's movements were markedly languid as he led the way through the hall the others had disappeared down. He tended to get that way when he consumed so much alcohol as quickly as he had in the past few hours. The strange urge to study the dog's movements tugged at Reggie, pulling his eyes towards the other mutant with a force more tangible than seemed possible. Something about the flowing grace he moved around with was oddly enchanting to the bassist. The notion was suddenly very annoying.

Several different hallways and sets of stairs later and the dark passageway gave way to an immense central room. Despite the different twists and turns the journey required, the trip was surprisingly short. From the external appearance of the building Reggie had expected that the living area would be massive. So far he had seen very little of what he knew was contained within the home. He would have to remember to ask about that later.

The massive room they entered was obviously the main congregation room. Reggie could recognize the hall behind the stairs as the one that led to the bands various bedrooms. In the center of the large space, an intricate and immense fireplace stood, but it was the figure behind the stunning hearth that truly took center place. It was a towering devil figure, a statue of stone and steel that bore a knowledge in its gaze that no piece of inanimate material had any right to possess. The stare made Reggie shiver; he suddenly felt cold all over. Reggie tore his eyes away from the disturbing display, moving his attention to the others in hopes that the action might stifle the disconcerting feeling.

Nearby, Negaduck was leaning against the archway that led to the balcony outside the opulent room: yet another passage through the thick barrier that separated the dark world within the manor from the outside realm. Negaduck had many such places where he could survey his domain. He gazed almost lazily over his shoulder as he noticed that the missing members had finally entered the room. Without a word he plucked one of the many cordless microphones he had at his disposal from a nearby table before slipping through the colossal glass doors. The others all gathered around the windows surrounding the doorway as their leader moved towards the balcony edge, watching with an anticipation that nearly rivaled that of the masses below. The pace of Reggie's breath quickened as he moved to join them. Somehow he wasn't even sure he wanted to watch.

The high perch was barely far enough down the building for the congregation below to see the short duck, but the current level in which they resided was the lowest that the living corridors extended. It was very rare for anyone besides the malicious singer to venture into the levels below. The moment Negaduck stepped far enough out onto the ledge to be seen by the fans, the crowd erupted into a flurry of excitement. The singer grinned evilly, feeding off their elated cries as though they were the finest of delicacies. He put his hands out, signaling for the cheers to stop, before flipping the microphone on and bringing it to his bill so that the immense crowd could hear him.

"You wanna see your new bassist?!" he roared, eliciting a louder round of cheers from the masses below. "Well fuck you!" he spat, deep voice booming across the city. "You wanna see your fucking bassist? Then I suggest you all be here four months from now when we release our new album," even from his perch several stories above the fans, his grin commanded attention, "I'll give you ungrateful assholes a concert the likes of which you have NEVER seen before! Be there, or suffer, my, _WRATH_!" The growled conclusion to the brief speech only made the crowd scream louder as the singer turned away from them.

Relief flooded Reggie's still weary body at the news that nothing more would be required from him at the moment. Though he couldn't help but wonder how they could possibly produce an entire album in only four months.

"Well now that that's settled," Negaduck said as he reentered the dark manor, "I want you all to get ready for a little trip. _We_, are going out tonight," he finished with a grin, moving through the room to the large entryway that led to the upper levels.

"Yeah! Par-_tay_!" Jack yelled giddily, half skipping, half running toward the stairs in his excitement.

"Wait. What happened?" Elmo questioned, scratching his head in confusion as he watched his friend dash from the room.

"Time to party hardy Sparky," Bud replied with a sideways grin at the rodent.

"Heh, sweet… what are we partying for?"

Bud cocked an eye at the perpetually addlepated rodent. "Our new bassist of course," he said softly, looking over his shoulder at the still dazed duck behind him.

Reggie glared faintly as he noticed the other's attention on him. The smug drummer merely grinned in response.

"Wha?" Elmo asked, bringing the dripping dog's attention back to him.

"Nothin'," Bud replied, "Just go change."

"What the hell for? This is what I always wear."

"Cause tonight is special asshole. Besides, you know damn well Jack isn't gonna let you go out without looking pretty."

"Hmmm. Go where now?"

Bud resisted the urge to roll his nonexistent eyes at the rodent. "Go let Jack play dress up."

"Uuuhh, I hate it when he makes me his personal Barbie doll," Elmo groaned, finally trudging away, suddenly almost oblivious to the fact that he had been talking to the drummer at all.

Bud chuckled slightly, shaking his head at the constantly befuddled guitarist. It continually amazed him that the rat didn't simply overlook the need to breathe. The realization that Reggie had yet to say anything prompted his attention back to the mutant duck still standing by the balcony doors. The amused expression fell from his face as he noted the look the other was supporting. Reggie was staring sullenly at his dark green hands, face twisted into an excess of depressive emotion. It was quite obvious that he had not yet gotten over his recent change.

Bud made a noise as though to clear his throat in order to gain the other's attention, but considering that he lacked a throat to clear the sound simply came out as a strangely harsh gurgle. Reggie lifted a questioning brow at the bizarre noise as he turned his attention to the dripping canine.

"What?" he asked.

Bud tipped his head towards the staircase in response, signaling the other to follow him. Reggie opened his mouth as though to say something but seemed to decide against it. After a quick glance out the window at the thousands still gathered around the building, he begrudgingly followed the departing drummer. He made it a point to intentionally stay a few steps behind Bud as he led the way down the corridor. Reggie was barely paying attention, but his distracted mind managed to comprehend that they were going in the opposite direction from where they had come earlier. He was starting to slowly put together the layout of the upper floor in his mind.

Reggie couldn't seem to stop fiddling with the garment covering him as he walked. He had to continually tug at the coat to keep it from slipping down his overly thin arms. The defiant material finally forced him to button the garment closed to keep it in place. The feeling was strange; he wasn't used to having the fabric touching so much of his chest. For some reason it made him feel somewhat claustrophobic. A small sigh voiced his relief once he reached his new bedroom. He slid swiftly inside, closing the door behind him quickly in hopes that it would deter Bud from deciding to bother him. Reggie was grateful for the solitude the heavily adorned chamber provided. He leaned his back against the door, stopping for a moment to breathe deeply. His composure benefited very little from the brief pause, leaf-like hands trembling slightly from their place against the smooth surface behind him. Reggie shook the appendages in frustration as he pushed himself away from the thick barrier. His soft grumbles did a poor job of assuring him that lack of nicotine was the only reason they were shaking.

Reggie was almost apprehensive as he walked to his mirror. He never did have the chance to actually look at himself before Negaduck had decided to have his little chat. Downturned eyes lifted slowly, their owner forcing them to face the mutant in the mirror. That face: if Reggie hadn't known that it was his he wouldn't have believed it. Only the piercing blue eyes, tinted with jaundice, lent any sense of familiarity to him.

He blinked at the reflection. _I wonder if plant-ducks can get jaundice,_ he thought.

He figured not; somehow he doubted that he even had a liver anymore. Did he even have any internal organs at all? Reggie's purple-petaled head shook at the inane thoughts. It didn't matter much at that point either way.

Wooded talons clicked lightly on the floor as the perturbed bassist walked across the room; did every place in that blasted home _have_ to have the same marble floors? The thought made him grumble slightly. It wasn't really the floors that bothered him. The transformation was still eating at him. It was as though he had invaded someone else's body, or perhaps just had his mind stolen and forcibly placed in some foreign shell. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had been somehow violated. A displeased grunt slipped from Reggie's bill as he removed his now baggy black pants. The looseness of the material was starting to irritate him.

"I suppose I have no need for you now anyway," he muttered to the worn fabric.

Just down the hall, a certain liquid mongrel was caught in a similar futile course of contemplation as his fellow mutant two doors down. The drummer found himself strangely glued to his bathroom mirror, watching the reflection as he swished his dripping dreadlocks back and forth absently in his inebriation. He turned the water on in the sink below the large reflective surface, dropping his hands under the cooling stream to absorb the liquid. He felt the sudden need to clear his mind.

The amber sheen began to slide slowly from his form, soon leaving him with his normal sparkling blue. Liquid lids slipped over the cerulean pools that comprised his eyes as his thoughts grew deeper. He couldn't recall ever feeling quite so tired before. The sight that met his gaze when he finally opened his eyes again made the drummer jolt in shock. The red glow sliced through him, a fury and a warning behind the fierce stare.

"I do hope I don't have to tell you to behave yourself tonight Bud," the malicious mallard growled.

It took a moment for Bud to register the fact that he was referring to Reggie. The realization made his entire form stiffen as though he'd been caught doing something very wrong. He literally had to force one of his usual cockeyed grins onto his face to mask the internal anxiety caused by the statement.

"Don't I always boss?" he retorted, narrowing his eyes at the scowling duck.

"No," Negaduck stated simply, his suspicion obviously unappeased by the comment, "Just don't make me remind you. I wouldn't want to have to take any… _drastic_ measures just because you've decided to be all sociable with this bassist," he finished as he turned his back on the other, leaving the dog to his thoughts without another word.

Bud sighed heavily as the other left, running a hand through the liquid locks on his head to try and steady his mild shaking. "Gettin' in too deep Buddy boy," he muttered to himself.

After one last glance at his reflection, he grabbed a pair of black leather gloves off the smooth counter, pulling them swiftly onto his hands as he followed the fuming vocalist from his room. The deep thoughts still swirling through his mind made him pause just outside his door, compelled to gaze down the hall at the room he knew housed the current bane of his existence. He ignored the voice that urged him to check on his new bandmate, slipping silently down the dark passageway as he attempted to pull his attention away from the other mutant.

Within said room, the fidgeting bassist had accomplished little to settle his nerves. Reggie's wooden leg shook excessively from where he sat on his bed. He was sure he'd gone through at least three cigarettes in just the few minutes he had spent alone in his room, but he was so deep in thought that he was hardly counting. The orange bud at the end of his latest cylindrical victim burned brightly as he took a deep drag from the smoke. It was the devil room, or so he kept telling himself. He couldn't seem to shake the feeling that that room— or rather the horrid statue residing within its walls— was out to get him. Reggie growled at the thought, putting his cigarette out roughly on the table beside the bed; he made a mental note to have someone get an ashtray in the near future.

By the time Reggie forced his feet to carry him back into the unnerving main chamber the others had already changed and were congregating at the bottom of the stairs. Jack's appearance was far more colorful than what Reggie had previously seen. He was covered in reds and blues, small accents of gold shining in the pale light. Even his hat had been swapped for one of blue and red complete with golden bells. Elmo, on the other hand, had changed very little. His grey brown pants had been replaced with a similar pair in a lighter shade and his boots replaced with ones that lacked the heavy steel toes. The absence of a more extensive makeover seemed very perturbing to Jack.

"Geez Sparky, even Bud changed for fuck's sake," he griped.

"He put on a pair of freakin' gloves! Biiig change," Elmo replied crossing his arms in a huff.

Jack looked over to Reggie as he realized that he had entered the room, an amused grin spread across his large beak at the sight of the other bird.

"Hehehe, goin' commando there Bushy?" he asked with a snicker, pointing at the other's lower half.

"Why wear pants when I don't have a fucking cock anymore?" Reggie grumbled around his cigarette.

"Fucking _hell_, is bitching all you do?" Negaduck growled, "I threw Bud into a vat of acid and he didn't bitch this much."

"Yeah, well… you owe me a new penis," Reggie muttered as the singer led the way to the oddly ominous elevator that would lead them out of the manor.

"Well at least you got them dangly things," Elmo said, wiggling his finger at Reggie's stamens as he entered the lift to stand beside the displeased duck, "Those are like.. naughty plant bits right?"

Reggie merely scowled in response. He couldn't help but will the elevator to descend faster as though his thoughts would actually help speed things up. He really didn't feel like being stuck in such a small place with the others for long. A disgusted look made its way to his features when his space was suddenly invaded by a certain grinning rhythmist.

"Heh, heh. Wait. So uh, these are like, your _balls_ then?" the jester sniggered, prodding at one of the tender spheres abrasively. The clown pouted as his hand was slapped away by the sullen bassist. "Oooh you're no fun," he said in disappointment.

As the torturous box finally reached the basement level, Jack's easily distractible nature quickly made itself known, the swaying tail of the rat in front of him prompting the jester to leave the bassist in favor of a brief grope session. Reggie groaned in annoyance at the other duck. He really hoped he wasn't going to have to spend too much time with the overgrown child that night.

Reggie was hardly paying attention to his surroundings as they ventured through the twist of tunnels more commonly referred to as the parking garage. He had to admit he was impressed with the extensive repertoire of vehicles stored in the underground maze. His mind wandered horribly during the journey, but the sight of their destination quickly silenced his thoughts and stopped him dead in his tracks.

"What in the holy hell is that?" he asked in shock.

The device in question was unlike any vehicle he had ever seen before. The stretched Lincoln continental had long since been transformed beyond a car. Its once normal lines had been altered into an impressively brutal display. Large tailpipes that spat fire and spiked hubcaps were among the more subtle characteristics of the car. The color was what truly caught Reggie's eye. The black undercoat lay beneath a fire orange sheen that made the paint look as though it had been infused with small bits of lightning. It was an incredible feat of electronic engineering and an unexpected statement to the mad genius housed deep within the voltage-driven junky currently drooling over her hood.

"Oh my gorgeous, voluptuous, high-voltage babeh!" Elmo purred elatedly, leaning over the long, sleek front end of the excessively modified, 60's style limo as though the hug would be pleasing to the car.

He continued to mutter sweet nothings to the hunk of metal as if it were answering him. Reggie cocked a brow at the display. He was already starting to rethink the idea that there was a genius anywhere inside the less-than-sane rodent.

"All right, file in assholes," Negaduck snapped, pulling Elmo off the hood by his tail as he moved around to the passenger side of the car.

Reggie was surprised to see that the mallard wouldn't be driving.

Jack didn't even bother opening the door to get in the car, its convertible nature allowing for a more flamboyant mode of entry. Reggie tried not to feel impressed at the flip he did into the plush back seat. He was less than pleased when Bud pushed him through the open door to sit beside the annoying duck.

"Why do I have to sit in the middle?" he grumbled.

"That's where the bassist always sits," Bud replied, closing the door beside him, "Besides, you'll be safer there. _Believe_ me."

Before the still grumbling bassist had the chance to question what the drummer really meant, the answer decided to make itself known. The vehicle sprung to life with no more than a sharp surge of power from the crazed rat at the wheel. Reggie never had the chance to react beyond holding the seat below him for dear life before the over-powered car raced from the garage. The mob outside didn't stand a chance against the erratic speeding of the insane guitarist at the helm. Reggie was pretty sure at least two people got hit as they pulled into the waning sunlight; he was positive about the third.

"Ahhh old lady! That's double points!" Jack said excitedly.

Something told Reggie this was one game that was played often.

"Na she lived," Negaduck said, glancing in the side mirror lazily, "You lose points for that."

"Hey, I can go back," Elmo said distractedly, turning his eyes towards the mallard reclined in the seat beside him as he swerved madly around the few other cars scattered on the road.

"No. We're almost there just keep your eyes on the damn road volt-breath."

As promised, much to Reggie's relief, the remainder of the trip did not take long. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding as their unnecessarily extreme pace finally slowed. Elmo screeched the car abruptly sideways as they pulled in front of their final destination, looking over the side in satisfaction at the perfection of his park job.

A glance at the mallard beside him sent Bud into a round of amused sniggers. The horrified plant-duck was still gripping the leather seat below him, his limbs shaking with the effort of trying to hold onto such an unyielding surface. His soft, lavender foliage was an unkempt mess, ruffled and puffed out in a way that Bud found strangely irresistible. Reggie's blue eyes shifted their focus slowly over to the dripping dog beside him as if looking for the other's assurance that he was still alive.

"Does he… _always_ drive?" Reggie questioned, his voice betraying the fact that he desperately hoped not.

"Well, only when we take his baby," Bud replied with a chuckle, slipping from the car and holding the door open for the mildly traumatized bassist so he could make his way unsteadily from the backseat.

Reggie shook his head, running a lightly quivering hand through his petals in an attempt to get the wild filaments under control as he moved to follow the departing dog. Negaduck had already moved down the darkened stairway and into the building by the time Reggie stood before the worn-out wooden door. The Old Haunt: unassuming on the outside but within the historic walls only the most elite of the city's well known resided. These were the closet to the band; people Negaduck knew wouldn't run their mouths or get in his way. This was the only place where Reggie would be shown.

"A bar?" Reggie asked curiously.

"THE bar Reggie," Bud said with a grin, "Aren't you excited?" he questioned, a slight chuckle to his bubbling voice.

"Whatever. A bar's a bar," Reggie mumbled after the drummer as the dripping fiend slipped down the stone steps.

"I don't know. Might be a little, _seedy,_ for your taste," Jack piped in, waggling his brows at the hesitant duck.

Reggie glared momentarily in response before following Bud's moist trail down the stairs.

"Come on! _Nothing_?" Jack whined in disapproval, "I thought that one was pretty good."

Reggie ignored him as he finally stepped into the infamous establishment. The atmosphere was such a contradiction to the outer face of the building that Reggie couldn't help the astonishment from planting itself plainly on his face. After a brief introduction of the newest member, the group quickly split to go their separate ways.

Negaduck was obviously uninterested in spending the night anywhere near the others. Within moments the singer was waist deep in booze and women, just the way he liked it. Jack and Elmo soon followed the other's lead, scurrying off in yet another unannounced race and leaving only Bud to look after the blatantly struggling bassist as he was faced with the flurry of patrons eager to meet the most recent addition to the band. Reggie tried to keep his uncomfortable shifting at bay as person after person shot questions at him. He practically could have collapsed in relief when the obnoxious antics of a certain loud mouthed jester and his drugged out companion drew most of the crowd away. Reggie slipped away from the departing group with as much a mix of stealth and speed as he could manage. The swift retreat quickly stopped when he nearly smacked into a lovely bird that would have stopped him in his tracks even if she hadn't been in his way.

"Well hello there tall, green and handsome," the buxom beauty purred, slipping a finger seductively along the exposed part of Reggie's smooth chest. "Never seen you with this crowd before. I take it you're the new bassist that's got everyone in a tizzy."

Reggie didn't know what to think. The vixen's beguiling eyes scrutinized him in a way he was completely unaccustomed to. He placed his cigarette in his beak to protect him from having to produce an answer; it did little to hide the fact that he had no idea what to say. As luck would have it, his struggle did not go unnoticed by all the bars dwellers. The suffering plant-duck jumped slightly as the wet arm contacted his shoulder. An irritated expression masked the internal relief Reggie felt at the moist contact. He was surprised to find that he was starting to become somewhat accustomed to the other's unannounced touches.

"You stealing my girl away there Reg?" Bud questioned in mock hurt as he smirked at the bassist.

The lovely bird in question giggled at the dog's flattery. Every lady in that bar knew damn well that no girl was _really_ Bud's girl.

"Oh Buddy, you always know how to flatter a gal now don't you?" she said.

"Well, I have to protect my interests now don't I love? Wouldn't want Reginald here to be taking my place," the drummer answered with a flirting grin.

"Well now, no worries cool lips. No boy could ever take Buddy's place," she replied with a wink.

"So sorry to have to steal your consort away, but I really must introduce dear Reginald to the other lovely patrons," Bud said as he turned Reggie away from the enchanting beauty.

"But of course," she said softly, a knowing look in her eyes. "Wonderful to meet you, _Reginald_," she purred as the two departed.

"Yeah," Reggie replied uncertainly, looking over his shoulder at the gorgeous bird.

She winked at him sensually, blowing him a chaste kiss. Reggie tore his eyes from her at the action. This was going to be quite a night.

Before Reggie even managed to tare his thoughts from the fem fetal behind them, Bud had already steered him to the glowing bar at the back of the softly lit building were many of the most regular patrons consistently congregated. Normally the long bar was filled with customers, but tonight only three of the locals remained before the mahogany surface. The gentle glow cast upon the otherwise dark corner bathed their faces in blue light. The pale shadows cast upon their features made it somewhat difficult for Reggie to make out exactly what they looked like, but one face caught his attention immediately. The aging duck was long past the prime of her years, yet there was something strangely captivating about the age of her loveliness. The subtle wrinkles on her face lent stories of glorious days long past. He was so engrossed with her that he hardly even noticed the middle-aged dog and solemn mallard sitting beside her.

"Bud ol' boy!" the canine called, his tone attesting to his inebriation, "We've been waitin' fer you to show up!" he said, already pouring a glass of the liquid drummer's favorite drink.

Before Reggie knew it, the eyes of the woman he had been admiring were upon him. They smiled at him through the dim glow of indigo light. He found her presence at the bar strangely comforting.

"Aren't you going to introduce us to your new friend Buddy?" she asked softly, still smiling at Reggie.

"Annything for you Darla dearest," Bud purred, swirling his form around Reggie's back so that the force of his body could push the tentative duck the last few feet to the bar. "Darla, Reginald. Reginald, Darla," Bud said, slipping his hand beneath Reggie's in order to place it in the smiling bird's outstretched fingers.

"Pleasure to meet you Reginald," Darla said, beaming sweetly as she lifted her slim cigarette to her lips.

"You too," Reggie said quietly, unsure of what else to say.

"Quite the eloquent one, aren't we?" Darla replied with a gentle laugh.

"And these other assholes are Benny and Jake," Bud finished quickly as he took a seat beside his fellow canine and downed the drink the other had already poured for him.

"Oh, so you'll do anything for _Darla_ dear and we're assholes, huh?" Benny asked with mock hurt.

"That's right," Bud replied simply already pouring himself another drink. A glance to his right told him that Reggie had yet to take his eyes off the lovely duck sitting to his side. "Geez Reg, sit down will ya," he said yanking at Reggie's coat to pull him into the seat to his right.

Reggie shot the other a half-hearted glare but otherwise didn't reply.

"So you're the new bassist huh?" Benny asked leaning across the bar to see past Bud. "Heh, I take it you weren't interesting enough for ol' Neggers, huh?" he questioned with a smirk as he took in the other's appearance.

"_Nooo_, my dad just fucked a tree," Reggie said sarcastically, lighting a cigarette to try and ease his discomfort.

The unexpected answer set the others into a round of laughter. They were unaware that the sarcastic remark was just a way for the mallard to hide his insecurity.

"You all right Reggie," Benny said, still laughing slightly, "Barkeep! Round of booze on me!" he said, whacking his hand on the surface in front of him to get the bartender's attention.

Before Reggie knew it a drink had been placed before him; he cocked an uncertain brow at the bronze liquid. A soft clink sounded from down the bar as Benny tapped his glass against Bud's, grinning at the other as he downed the delightful drink. Bud chuckled slightly at his good friend before looking over at the still slightly shocked bassist beside him. Reggie was just staring at the drink in front of him as if he was unsure what to do with it.

"What's the matter Reg? You not a bourbon person?" Bud asked quietly as the others laughed amongst themselves.

"I wouldn't know. I… don't really drink," Reggie muttered, trying to keep the others surrounding them from hearing him.

"Oh Christ Reggie, live a little," Bud said his eyes swirling in annoyance as he pushed the drink towards the bassist.

Reggie stared at the beverage for a moment before picking it up and bringing it hesitantly to his bill. He knew Bud wouldn't let it go until he finished at least one drink, so he decided to take the whole thing in one shot. He immediately regretted it. Once the burning liquid contacted his throat his eyes started to water slightly with the effort of keeping himself composed. One of his leafy hands curled into a fist as he brought the appendage to his beak. The hand did a poor job of holding back his soft coughs. He was lucky only Bud could really hear him.

The drummer chuckled in amusement at Reggie's first meeting with lady alcohol. He patted a gloved hand against the quietly-hacking mallard's back as he filled the other's glass again. Reggie cocked a displeased brow at the new dose of intoxicant; he certainly wouldn't be drinking this one as fast. Fortunately he was saved from having to keep up with the drummer beside him by the sudden round of questions that came his way. He wasn't sure he preferred the questions to the drinking but he could hardly handle much more alcohol with his low tolerance. Reggie tried his best to ignore the discomfort at being the center of attention; he didn't even notice how much he was tugging at his coat. The constant questioning was quickly starting to ware at him.

"So Reginald darling," Darla asked, "Tell us about yourself. How'd a nice looking boy like you get mixed up with this rotten crowd?"

Reggie shrugged at the question, sipping slightly from his drink and trying to keep from shuddering at the still-foreign burn the liquid produced. "I just needed a job," he stated as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You picked a hell of a choice for_ just_ a job," Jake decided to say.

It was the first time Reggie had heard the other mallard speak.

"You take what you can get when you live below the poverty line," he replied indifferently.

"Well, you got quite some balls to join this crowd," Benny offered with a small laugh.

Reggie tipped his head at the aged canine, genuinely curious at the comment. "Why's that exactly?" he questioned.

"You are aware that no bassist has made it past a year, right?" Jake answered, shifting his narrowed eyes to stare at Reggie.

The slouching mutant paused to think the question over for a moment before replying. "Sure," he answered quietly.

Something told the observant drummer beside him that this wasn't true. Bud glanced quickly down at the other's empty glass before deciding that the cup necessitated a refill.

Reggie narrowed his eyes at the dripping dog as he saw the empty vessel fill once again. "You just enjoy seeing me suffer through this don't you," he questioned quietly.

"Maybe I'm just trying to get you drunk," Bud said with a sly grin.

"Heh, somehow that would not surprise me," Reggie replied with a slight grunt. He downed the drink anyway.

"So Reginald dear," Darla asked, her soft voice smooth as silk, "Where do you live? You don't strike me as the type that's been living around this divine disaster of a city for very long and you _certainly_ aren't the type of bassist we're used to meeting."

Reggie stiffened slightly at the question; the aging beauty had unknowingly stumbled on one of his more tender nerves.

"I… don't exactly have a home. I'm more of a drifter I suppose," he responded quietly.

"Oh? And what does your family think about that?" Benny questioned. Reggie was surprised at how genially interested the intoxicated canine sounded.

"I wouldn't know… I left home at 14."

"So young?" Darla asked gently, "So, what have you been doing for all these years?"

"A little of this, a little of that."

"Very nondescript," Jake muttered suspiciously.

Reggie shrugged. The other duck was quickly becoming an increasing source of disquiet for him.

"I've done so many things at this point… it would be very boring to listen to I'm sure."

He didn't have the courage to say anything else.

Reggie had never had the desire to use alcohol to escape from his discomfort before, but the constant prying into his past was starting to dig up memories he'd rather forget and only the drink in front of him offered any form of escape. For the second time that night, Bud took pity on the suffering duck.

"Oh! Reggie, you just _gotta_ meet Sapphire," he said, suddenly grabbing the mallard by his arm and dragging him out of his seat.

Reggie's eyes widened as he was yanked from the bar, his knees practically buckling at the unexpected pull. He certainly hadn't expected the other to come to his rescue so abruptly.

"Sorry my dears but it's getting late and I think you've hogged enough of Reggie's time," Bud said, winking at the others to assure them he was joking.

They barely had time to voice a collective farewell before Bud began to drag Reggie away from the bar. It was a good thing too; the bassist was already tripping over his roots slightly from the amount of liquor in his system. He hardly even noticed where they were going until his companion pulled him down into one of the few sofas situated around the space.

"I thought you were dragging me off to meet someone," Reggie asked in confusion once he noticed that there was no one around them. "Where is this Sapphire person?"

The dog beside him snickered lightly. "Yeah, Sapphire was that hottie you met earlier," Bud said amusedly, "I was just getting bored."

The reply was actually quite a poor excuse to cover the dog's true motives, but Reggie was far too relieved to really question his reasons. Bud stretched lazily across the couch: a habit left over from days when he actually possessed muscles. Reggie couldn't help the soft chuckle that passed his bill as he watched the other recline against the armrest. Maybe Bud wasn't so bad after all.

As the night crept on, the many partying individuals began to thin out as they found better locations to take their fun to. The band stayed diligently behind, catering to the lingering fans still eager to have their time with the metal icons. The dragging hours found Reggie sill sitting with the drummer, listening to the many tales the dog had to tell. The table in front of them was scattered with empty liquor bottles nearly every one of them a different brand. Bud now spewed stories almost at random in his increasingly drunken state. He'd even managed to coax a few more drinks down Reggie's throat. The floral mutant focused his inebriated gaze across the nearly empty bar as the sound of Jack's drunken singing filtered across the space. The jester was sprawled across the bar where Reggie and Bud had been sitting mere hours earlier apparently making up words as to go along with the quiet tune that Elmo was playing.

"So what's the deal with them anyway?" Reggie questioned, suddenly interested in knowing more about the strange group he would be living with. "I mean, how the hell did he find you people?" he reiterated, attempting to keep the slight slur from his voice.

"Well that's quite the story from what I hear," Bud replied, lifting himself from where he had been laying across the couch so that he could throw a wet arm around Reggie's shoulder. "I can tell you what I've heard, but as for vouching for the validity I make no promises."

He snickered slightly as though the idea was funny. Reggie would have to remember how easy the dog was to get information out of when he was drunk enough.

"I'll bet. I take it you all met because of the band?" he queried.

"Na, they knew each other before. I think they met here but I _know_ Jack came from some shithole town out west 'n some bible thumpin' place," he paused only to take a deep drink from his latest bottle of liquid bliss, "Apparently they thought he was an omen a the antichrist or some shit so they threw 'im out of town. Heh, according to him he was a stripper for a while before he decided that was too boring. I guess he stared a business makin' toys of a _naughty _persuasion, did that for a bit an ten got his ass thrown in jail," Bud snickered.

For some reason Jack's previous lines of work had always been amusing to him.

"What'd he end up in jail for?" Reggie asked when the other didn't continue.

Bud shrugged, slipping his arm from Reggie's shoulder. "Beats me. He changes the story every time ya ask 'im. I do know he was transferred here to St. Canard prison, broke out and acquired Elmo's company."

"No shit?" Reggie replied, "So, Elmo grow up here?"

"I think so, but no one really knows much about him. From what I hear he was a junkie who got so desperate for a cheap high that he invented a way to get fucked up on electricity. I do know he was living on the streets when Jack met him. I heard he was about 16 at the time. But his brain's so goddamned fried at this point that I doubt anyone will ever really know," Bud finished, his drunken laughs returning with a vengeance.

"_16_? How long have they known each other?"

"A few years. Mo's only like 20 right now. But like I said, no one really knows, he jus kinda guesses about his own age."

"Guesses?! How can he not even know his own damn age?" Reggie asked in disbelief, "There's no way he's _that_ brain dead."

"Oh, yeah?" Bud challenged. He leaned back close to the bassist prompting the other's attention back to the two guitarists across the bar. "Ever notice how he's constantly plucking at that damn guitar?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Well, he does that because if he didn't he'd forget the songs every five fuckin' minutes."

"Hmmm," was Reggie's only reply as he contemplated the information that he had gathered over the past few hours. "So, Negaduck is the spawn of the devil, Jack is a man whore from Utah, and Elmo is a brain-dead, power plant reject turned voltage junkie."

"Yup, that's the story as far as I know it," the drummer said, sprawling idly back across the damp couch cushions.

"Hm… well there's still one thing you never told me," Reggie said, cocking a brow at the lounging water-dog.

"Oh?" Bud answered opening an eye at him, "And what would that be?"

"What about Buddy?" Reggie said genuinely curious, "What's the incredible sopping drummer's story?"

Bud couldn't help the grin that spread across his muzzle at the other calling him Buddy; he didn't bother mentioning the implications of the other referring to him by that name.

"Heh, well not much to tell there," he said, "I'm quite the normal one don't ya know. I was born and raised in a small town outside St. Canard's suburbs. Basic white bread family. Two kids, two car garage, all that shit. I worked as a door to door salesman until I decided I couldn't stand my life, pooled all my money, and came to the city to be a drummer. The rest is history. Those three loons track me down and say I can be rich and famous if I let them throw me into a vat of dubious, burning liquid," he finished with a trivial flip of his wrist.

Reggie looked at him as though he'd fashioned a second head. "Soo you let them?" he inquired.

Bud shrugged, his eyes slipped closed once again. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Reggie's head cocked to the side slightly as he observed the other. He found the strange urge to watch the drummer's constantly flowing water as it sparkled gently in the light. Something in that moment seemed to warn him of how important his peculiar relationship with the dog was going to become.

* * *

><p>Wow… not how I intended to end this chapter. But I also never intended it to be my longest chapter to date, so I guess this one is just full of surprises. Stay tuned for chapter 5!<p> 


	5. Suffer For Your Art

Author's Note: Ch. 5 is finally here! Do a little dance for me people, this took a lot of love to finally finish. Would have been done sooner but I debated forever on if I should split it into 2 chapters or not. So I apologize if things go a little fast or anything. But at least you get a long chapter… long for me anyway. So enjoy!

Warning: Icky plant blood and minor drug reference… like minor to the point that it's barely worth mentioning. But I do.

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><p>Dawn brought a groan to Reggie's bill, compelling the miserable mallard to flip himself over in an attempt to escape the unwanted rays. As soon as the light was shaded from the bassist's form, he was reminded of exactly how much he now needed the sun. He shuddered unhappily as the darkness quickly stole every ounce of warmth from his body, draining away what little energy he currently possessed. He practically had to force himself to flip back over, throwing an arm over his eyes to lessen the sun's assault.<p>

He cursed internally for a few moments as though the unspoken complaints would convince the light to go away; his soft grumbles were all that betrayed the inner dialog— a quiet testament to his foul mood. A leafy hand searched blindly for his discarded coat, his still foggy brain incapable of remembering where exactly he had deposited it the night before. He could barely even remember how they had gotten back to the manor let alone recall where the garment had fallen.

His arm flopped listlessly over the side of the bed, creeping along the ground in his blind pursuit. It took a few moments for Reggie to realize that something wasn't quite the same as usual. Weary eyes widened in a mix of curiosity and confusion at the odd feeling that was spreading through his arm. He glanced to the side, scrutinizing the slim, green limb to examine the source of the abnormal feeling. Reggie blinked in disbelief at the vine-like arm, thoroughly intrigued by the sight before him. The appendage had been subconsciously stretched past what would have been physically possible just a few days earlier. He pulled the arm back towards himself, quivering slightly at the still foreign sensation of the pliable flesh. Reggie stared at his hand in disbelief for a few moments before deciding to try the action again.

"Huh… well, that's just fuckin' weird," he muttered softly to himself, resuming his search despite the self-imposed comment.

Had he been more awake he probably would have been a bit more distressed at the additional abnormality.

After several painful moments, the search finally produced the black and white garment and the promise of nicotine it represented. Sluggish hands pulled the coat over his body, laying it over himself like a blanket in an attempt to state the need for the familiar feeling of it against his skin. Reggie sighed heavily as he fished through the trench coat's inner pocket for the cigarettes.

The brief search quickly produced the mostly empty pack, slightly crushed from the previous night's exploits, for Reggie to rifle through. A soft sigh of relief greeted the lone cigarette nestled within the foil-lined box. At least he wouldn't have to go find another one just yet.

After several long moments of staring at the high ceiling absently and smoking, the still drowsy mallard finally managed to convince his stiff joints to move so that he could open the dark curtains further. He couldn't help but tip his head towards the recuperative illumination; it wasn't enough. His newly acquired need for light compelled him to search for a way out of the dark room, eyes scanning the walls quickly for such an exit. A few moments of searching produced a mode of escape that Reggie had previously been oblivious to. He tipped his head in contemplation momentarily before grabbing one of his unopened packs of cigarettes to accompany him on his journey outside.

Wooded feet carried him swiftly towards the private balcony across the room, Reggie pausing only a moment before pushing against the reflective barrier. The tall, glass doors were surprisingly heavy and seemed to almost resist being opened, groaning irately as the bassist pushed them apart. Reggie couldn't help the euphoric shivers that spread through his body as he stepped fully into the sun; it was the one aspect of his transformation that was quickly becoming a secret guilty pleasure.

After only a few moments in the orange-tinted light, Reggie was struck with an inexplicable and irresistible desire to be closer to the shining source of ecstasy. Blue eyes tilted towards the nearby peak of the massive building as Reggie considered the bizarre idea currently resounding in his head. Leafy hands lifted slightly as he shifted his gaze between the appendages and the sloped roof above him. The idea was just ridiculous enough to work.

He flicked his expended smoke over the balcony edge as he gave into the odd notion. His manner was almost timid as he tried stretching his arms again, the action requiring him to focus intently on the movement. He had to admit, it was somewhat satisfying when he finally managed to get both slim appendages to extend, reaching the wriggling vines up to grasp the lightning rod situated atop the roof. It took some unflattering wiggling and odd stretching of his torso to accomplish the climb, but he eventually managed to struggle his way up the sloped surface.

Reggie sighed in relief as he finally reached his nearby destination. Perched upon the towering apex he could see the entire expanse of the city spread out below him. The fiery orange of the rising sun lent the illusion that the entire city was burning. Or was that just from the fans? He lit a cigarette to celebrate his small victory as he looked over the metropolis. It was a foreign feeling for Reggie to look down at others. Yet it was somehow oddly gratifying. Maybe this fame thing wouldn't be so bad after all.

His thoughts wandered aimlessly as he looked over the disturbed city. From the top of the immense manor he could actually see out to the badlands, the greenhouse barely visible in the distance. He wasn't sure why, but he was suddenly struck with the strange feeling that the lifeless structure was calling out for him; it was oddly analogous to an old friend begging for a visit. He was shaken from the strange contemplations by an abnormally animate stream of water that flowed up the excessive slope. Reggie jolted, nearly falling from his perch, as the eerily cognate liquid slipped into the familiar form of the manor's resident water-dog.

"Aagh! Don't DO that!" Reggie gripped at the smirking drummer, clutching at his chest in an attempt to calm his racing heart.

"What can I say?" Bud responded, chortling in amusement at the flustered duck, "You're just too damn cute when you're scared shitless."

Reggie cocked a suspicious brow at the still chuckling canine; he was starting to seriously question the drummer's presumably flippant remarks. He merely grumbled in reply, annoyed expression settling on his face at the other's amusement.

"So uh, I gotta ask… what the hell brings ya to these parts Reg?" Bud questioned with a slight chuckle when the other didn't reply.

"Need sun," Reggie answered simply, pointing a finger at the sky.

Bud lifted a brow upward, as though to confirm the idea that the burning sphere above them represented such a significant source of nutrition for the arboreal bird. "Hm… well that makes sense I suppose," he muttered, reclining against the slanted roof in a gravity defying manner that would have been quite impossible before his mutation.

Bud looked over at the other when he didn't reply further. His head tilted curiously at the way Reggie was craning his neck at the sky, eyes closed and purple locks almost shimmering in the morning light. The way the rays spread across the soft foliage in a shimmering display of lavender shades almost made him shiver.

_Beautiful_.

The thought was somehow startling to Bud. He shook his head frantically, trying to remove the repeating word from his mind. Liquid eyes slid shut to shield the oddly gorgeous sight from his vision. He was starting to run out of excuses to convince himself that he wasn't attracted to the moody mallard.

"So, how the hell you get up here anyway?" he finally asked— a further attempt to shift the focus of his thoughts.

He was surprised to hear what could almost be classified as a chuckle come from the other at the question.

"Heh, pretty cool trick actually," Reggie replied, waiting for Bud to focus his eyes on him before continuing, "Check it out."

He lifted a hand, releasing its hold on the metal rod to assist in his demonstration. Bud shifted so that his elbows supported his weight as he watched curiously. The thin arm stretched slowly, extending beyond what Bud would have thought possible. Reggie wriggled it slightly before he snapped it back, coiling the appendage once again to its normal length. He almost smirked at the mildly shocked expression on the other's face. Bud grinned amusedly at him. The action only served to wipe what little semblance of a grin was present on Reggie's green features. Bud suddenly found himself wishing desperately that the mallard would smile.

"Well, feeling better?" he asked

"No. I'm hung over as hell," Reggie replied cocking an eye at the lounging water-dog, "I believe I have _you_ to thank for that."

Bud smirked at the comment, eyes moving to look over the waking city. "You're welcome."

The sound of the other shifting prompted his gaze back to the bassist. He watched as the leafy bird grabbed the lightning rod with both hands and stretched his arms out to lower himself to the balcony below. The action made Reggie's previous claims quite clear. Bud slipped down the slanted roof after him in an almost lazy manner, his water sliding over the edge in a small glistening waterfall. Reggie's eyes narrowed in irritation as some of the liquid splashed into his purple hair. He couldn't help but wonder if the other did it on purpose.

Despite the disapproving look he received, Bud seemed essentially oblivious to the fact that he had just doused his cranky companion. Reggie shook his hair erratically to try and remove some of the annoying water when the other failed to acknowledge his aggravation. Something about the carefree, overly elated smile that was currently plastered on Bud's face only served to worsen his mood. The bothersome puddle _would_ have to be a morning person. Reggie groaned as his head chose that moment to throb horribly, rubbing at his temples to try and ease some of the pain. The soft sound of discomfort earned him Bud's attention once again. He lit another cigarette to avoid having to answer the questioning look on the other's face. Bud knew better than to push him.

"Come on Reg, let's go get some breakfast. I need booze," he said, slipping back into the dim room.

Without the threat of Bud seeing, Reggie couldn't stop the mildly amused smirk that made its way onto his face. As much as he hated to admit it there was something about the drummer's lighthearted attitude that was annoyingly infectious. He shook his head slightly to wipe the small grin off his face before he followed the dripping dog through his room. He certainly could use some kind of breakfast. There was something his whole body still seemed to be craving. Besides maybe some aspirin.

A quiet scraping accompanied the journey from Reggie's roots dragging softly against the tiled ground. His shoulder was rubbing gently against the wall beside them as he leaned up against it to assist in keeping him upright. Bud almost considered offering his help.

The soft chatter and several telltale cackles coming from the nearby kitchen told Reggie that the two local guitarists were already up. He had to force back the groan that threatened to sound at the thought of seeing the other two so early. Reggie was learning quite quickly that there was a limit to how much of their antics he could stand. He squinted against the overly bright kitchen, so that he could see the two through the painful light. They were talking softly amongst themselves, giggling childishly at some joke that would obviously be amusing only to them. Jack was leaned over the table spooning a colorful cereal into his mouth between laughs while Elmo plucked quietly at his ever-present guitar, his soft snickers making him fumble slightly. The quiet sound of Reggie's feet against the ground was the only noise that accompanied the two mutants into the kitchen, but it was apparently enough to alert Jack of their presence. His grin spread quickly after a glance over his shoulder affirmed their presence. Reggie didn't like the suggestive look he was giving them.

"Why hello there lovelies. _Sleeeep_ well?" the jester questioned, eyebrows waggling to emphasize what he actually meant.

Bud's entertained smirk gave away his slight amusement at the comment despite the roll of his eyes. "Not THAT well Jack."

Reggie chose not to comment, mostly due to the fact that he didn't know what to say, but his deep green tint spoke magnitudes to the embarrassment that the playful question provoked despite his silence. He grumbled softly as he dropped himself into one of the stools beside Bud at the long center island. Despite his best efforts, Jack's quiet, but still maniacal, laughs were difficult to ignore. Reggie propped his chin exhaustedly on the countertop, the newly acquired level of flexibility in his spine making the bent position surprisingly comfortable. Even from across the room, Reggie could practically feel the gaze of a certain mischievous mallard scrutinizing him.

He sighed heavily at the stare. "_What_ Quack?" he finally questioned, not even bothering to shift his head in order to look at him.

"How's that hangover treating ya there Bushy?"

The miserable groan Reggie offered in reply was obviously enough of an answer for the giggling mallard. It didn't take long for the other bird's attention to return to the rodent beside him. Reggie's eyes rolled as he resisted the urge to groan yet again, shifting his gaze around the counter in an attempt to stray his thoughts. An excessively bright, and oddly cheery, box suddenly caught his eye. He lifted his head from the surface beneath him in curiosity; the cereal was undeniably out of place in the steel adorned kitchen. It only took a moment for his hazy mind to realize that it must have been what Jack was currently munching noisily on.

"Fruities," Reggie mumbled, cocking an eye at the vibrant box. "Oddly appropriate."

The comment stopped Jack mid bite of the colorful concoction, prompting his shocked gaze over to the bassist. "Was that a _joke_ at my expense Bushy?" he questioned, stupid grin spreading across his large bill. "So you're secretly a _FUN_GI after all huh?"

Reggie rolled his eyes at the laughs that followed. If he wasn't getting so used to the jester's lame puns he would probably have been more annoyed. He rubbed at his temples when the eye rolling caused his head to throb horribly. He practically jumped out of his skin when he felt Bud pluck something from his head, his back straightening abruptly as he nearly fell from his stool, the perch growing unstable at the abrupt shift in weight. The unexpectedly extreme reaction caused Bud to stand up and grab him around the waist to prevent him from suffering an unfortunate meeting with the ground. The dark green tint that had never fully left Reggie since they entered the kitchen spread across his entire face once he realized the embrace Bud currently had him in.

"Uh… Bud?" Reggie questioned, too flustered to produce more of a reaction let alone remove the arm still around his midsection.

The situation left Bud speechless for a different reason. The slightly ruffled hair, the wide blue eyes and shocked expression all lent a strange sense of perfection to the moment that was difficult for him to ignore. Despite Bud's brief mental lapse, he quickly replaced his captivated expression with one of his more usual lighthearted grins. He suddenly found himself laughing genuinely at the situation, much to Reggie's displeasure.

"You just had something in your hair," he finally answered, still snickering slightly.

Reggie didn't seem to notice that he still hadn't moved his hand.

"_Whoa_ there Buddy boy tap dat on your own time!" Jack suddenly hooted across the room, effectively breaking the brief spell.

Elmo paused his plucking momentarily to smack his companion lightly at the loud cackle. The momentary break in Jack's attention was more than enough to snap Reggie back to his senses causing him to jerk roughly away from the other man's grip. Bud couldn't help the displeased look that crossed his face as he slipped back into his seat.

"_Ow_, wha'd ya do—" Jack cut himself off, realization blatant on his face, "Oooooh! Right," he giggled, "My bad. Tap that on your own time," he repeated in an obnoxious whisper.

"Why are we whispering?" Bud asked, curling a hand over his mouth as though it would help carry his voice across the room.

"Negs threatened death on us if we didn't… shut our… collective cock holes," Elmo replied, obviously thinking very hard to recall the exact words the singer had used.

"_Yeeeah_. His mighty bitchiness needs his beauty sleep," Jack griped in a high-pitched mocking tone, shoveling more of the sugary bits forcefully into his bill.

"Hmm, I suppose that isn't too surprising," Bud muttered more to himself than his bandmates.

It wasn't long before he was compelled to glance back at Reggie. The bassist's previous embarrassment had been replaced with his still present exhaustion and discomfort. The unhappy groan was enough to tell the drummer that there was more bothering the mallard than the lasting effects from the previous night's inebriation. Bud rubbed sheepishly at the back of his head as he tried to figure out what to say that wouldn't insult or annoy the other mutant.

"You ever gone over 10 day without eating?" Reggie questioned, addressing Bud's concerns before he had the chance to say anything.

"Yes," Elmo answered, apparently oblivious to the fact that he was not the one being addressed. "At least… I assume." He scratched his head slightly as though trying to recall if it was actually true.

Reggie cocked a brow at the rodent, trying to decide who he should be answering. "Yeeah, well that's how I feel," he finished, propping his chin on his hands.

Bud considered this for a moment, humming softly as his eyes quickly searched the table for the large plate full of toast he knew would be nearby. Jack always insisted on making so much toast even though he never ate it: an often vain attempt to get his forgetful, and borderline anorexic, companion to eat more.

"Try this," Bud said, pulling the plate towards the mallard.

"I don't know. Do plants… _eat _toast?"

Bud rolled his eyes, suddenly annoyed: Reggie seemed to have that effect on him. "Humor me."

Reggie lifted a brow at the toast, considering for a moment whether he actually wanted to try eating one of the starchy slices. The knowledge that Bud wasn't about to let the idea go compelled him to lift one of the pieces to his mouth. Despite the small portion his timid bite consisted of, his body was still painfully unwilling to accept the nourishment. A leafy hand clamped over his bill as the now slimy hunk of food immediately returned from his stomach. He didn't question the damp napkin that Bud handed him. Reggie shuddered slightly as he deposited the small bit of chewed food into the offered paper.

"Ugh! That. Was. Terrible," he said, shuddering softly as he wadded up the napkin.

"Hmm, well that didn't work. Heh, sorry for the suggestion," Bud said with a slight chuckle, patting Reggie's back in an attempt at comfort. "Eating is overrated anyway."

Reggie almost found the statement amusing. Almost.

"Well, what about you people?" he queried, "I don't exactly see anyone stuffing their face besides Jack."

He tried to ignore the immature raspberry Jack sent his way in response to the comment.

"Well I never eat and Sparky tends to just _forget _that particular process, so I suppose Jack's really the only one who ever eats all that much," Bud answered with a shrug.

"Ha, ha, you're the fat one Quacky," Elmo teased, prodding the munching mallard in one of his protruding cheeks.

"Am not fat!" Jack cried childishly through his mouthful of Fruities, spraying some of the macerated bits at the electrical rodent.

"Uh-huh," Reggie muttered lifting a brow quizzically at the two bickering guitarists. "So, what about Negaduck?" he continued as he returned his attention to the dog beside him, "When does the self-proclaimed lord of the underworld feed?"

"I only feed on coffee and souls of the innocent," the telltale voice grumbled as said singer saw fit to make an appearance.

He made his usual trip straight to the coffee pot which had been filled hours ago by one of the many unseen servants that roamed the manor. His ever-present black mask was slightly askew, leaving it to give glimpses of his baggy, exhausted eyes. The rest of his usual attire was missing, leaving him in only his dark pants. The ruffled nature of his feathers and telltale lipstick smears on his cheek gave evidence that he had not spent the night alone. The mallard had obviously done a number on himself the night before; Reggie suspected from more than just booze this time around. Within a few seconds, the first cup of potent caffeine was downed and the mallard was already refilling the empty mug. Now equipped with his fresh cup of coffee, the groggy vocalist trudged over to sit where Reggie and Bud were currently congregating. He scratched absently at the cracked portion of his bill as he dropped himself into one of the bar stools on the opposite side of the table.

"Well, hope you kiddies all had a good time last night, cause we got a lot of shit to get done today," he grumbled.

Reggie groaned internally, using every scrap of his willpower to keep the displeased noise to himself. He had a horrible feeling that it was going to be a very long day.

* * *

><p>As the afternoon wore on, far less was accomplished than Negaduck had hoped.<p>

The mallard scowled at the screen before him, listening intently for the vexing discrepancies he knew were there. Behind him the others sat in silence, accustomed to their lack of role in the editing process. Reggie shifted on the hard couch they currently occupied. He was less used to the long process of watching Negaduck delete take after take of the latest songs. He had to give the mallard one thing: he was nothing if not picky about what he allowed on his album.

The perturbed bassist shifted for the hundredth time in the past ten minutes, his continual supply of cigarettes offering little validation for the lengthy wait. He kept trying to keep himself from shifting towards the drummer beside him, but the mallard to his right was making that task increasingly difficult. The longer the wait stretched on, the harder it was for the jester to remain still, and he seemed to find solace only in the act of pestering Reggie. The plant duck hadn't wanted to sit beside the annoyance, but a certain rodent insisted on putting as much space between him and Bud as possible. Apparently it was just a given that the guitarist was allowed whichever seat was farthest from the dripping drummer.

Reggie was growing increasingly frustrated at the entire situation. They had been there for hours and so far there had been little for him to even do since he only knew a few of their songs. Most of what he had played so far he had been forced to sight read. After another three hours of doing nothing, he finally broke down and lit one of few 'special' smokes that he kept for such occasions: his own blend of tobacco and other less legal substances. His mind wandered until he heard the duck beside him sniffing the air frantically. Blue eyes rolled at the snorting.

_I suppose it was too much to ask that he just wouldn't notice. _

He shifted his head to acknowledge the obnoxious outpouring that he knew was coming only have the guitarist's face pressed to his— Jack's mask-clad eyes gazing through him knowingly. Reggie didn't quite realize that in Jack's mind, shifting his gaze away was an admission that he had lost a game that existed only within the jester's own mind.

"HA! I knew you were smoking' something else you sneaky bastard!" he exclaimed triumphantly, prodding the exasperated Reggie in the chest harshly.

The preoccupied singer before them spun in his chair at the obtrusive sound, growling harshly in warning to the both of them. A cigarette of the same persuasion had just forced him to shut the other bird up after a similar scene only a few hours earlier. Jack leaned back against the stiff couch, arms crossed over his chest and smug grin still planted on his face. Negaduck didn't wait for more of a reaction before turning back to the expansive screen in front of him. After four tracks of torture, he was ready to just find out what was tormenting him about them so they could move on and he was in no mood for the group behind him to slow things down anymore. It was their fault anyway. It couldn't _possibly_ be his magnificent singing that was the problem.

Reggie sighed irately at the duck beside him. He knew the mallard was still staring at him. At least he wasn't pulling on his hair anymore.

"You know it's not nice to bring candy to class if you're not gonna share with the other kids Reggie," Jack said quietly, grin never falling from his face.

Reggie cocked an eyebrow at him, tilting his head to the side so that he could blow his latest batch of smoke into the clown's face.

"There. I shared," he stated simply, turning away from the other once again.

His eyes bulged at the large knife that was suddenly coming right at them, flinching away slightly as the blade embedded itself into the wall at their backs. Reggie's startled gaze met Jack's as they both stared at the weapon that had made its way between them.

"Share later homos. I have discerned what our problem is," Negaduck stated as he pivoted his chair lazily around to face them.

"Finally!" Elmo groaned, moving his legs from the short table before the couch so that he was no longer reclined in the uncomfortable furniture. "I'm going to forget the next song again if we don't get on with this soon."

"So how do we fix the problem boss?" Bud interjected sleepily in hopes to get things back on track as soon as possible.

"Well that depends," Negaduck replied, fixing his gaze on the bassist beside the dozing drummer. "_Reginald?" _he addressed the plant-duck deeply.

"Uh… yeeah?" Reggie replied nervously, unsure of how to respond to the growling mallard.

"Could you do me a favor, and SUCK a little less?!"

"Not my fault," Reggie grumbled, "You try playing a guitar with no fucking fingers," he finished, lifting a leafy hand for emphasis.

"Oh yeah?" Negaduck growled "Well you… _actually_ kind of have a point," he finished, rubbing his chin in thought as he observed the digit-less hand; aside from Reggie's thumbs there was little to aid him in playing.

After a moment of contemplation, he brought his eyes back to the bassist, grin spreading across his face. Reggie gulped in response. He'd been around long enough to know that a grinning Negaduck wasn't usually a good thing for him.

"I can fix that," the mallard hissed haughtily, walking towards them to yank the knife from the wall.

Before Reggie even had a chance to react to facing a smirking, knife-wielding Negaduck, his right hand was captured in the mallard's cold, harsh grip. The large blade sliced mercilessly through the leaf-like appendage, cutting his hand down the middle so that he now supported three fingers.

"Ahh! what the fuck man?!" Reggie yelled, gripping the bleeding appendage in his good hand and bringing it to his chest to protect it from the grinning mallard.

Negaduck didn't bother to reply before seizing Reggie's other hand roughly, pulling it away from its wounded companion. He cut the previously unharmed leaf quickly, giving it the same treatment as the previous. Reggie jerked away from the pain instinctively, pushing away from the other to the point that forced himself right through the drummer next to him and over the side of the couch. He groaned miserably at the harsh treatment, lying on his back and staring at his shaking hands. Deep green fluid exuded from delicate veins in the leafy digits; the blood was an almost eerie shade, bordering on black.

"There. Problem solved," Negaduck replied as he slipped the blade effortlessly back into its sheath.

Elmo and Jack both snickered at the miserable hybrid, muttering quietly amongst themselves.

"Uhhhh, I would so flip you off right now if I had a middle finger," Reggie mumbled from his place on the floor.

"Negs can fix that for you ya know," Jack giggled, sending his companion off into another fit of sniggers.

Reggie growled in response, coiling his bleeding hands in his coat as he lifted himself into a sitting position. _Yeah I can totally play now,_ he thought irately to himself.

"Alright you pansy, quit your bitchin' and wrap those up so we can get this over with and move on already," Negaduck snapped, obviously unwilling to offer even an ounce of pity.

"See, everything is the bassist's fault," Jack stated happily.

"You're redoing yours too chuckles," Negaduck stated matter-of-factly as he finished isolating the problem areas.

The glee was quickly stripped from Jack's face at the statement. "What?! Whyyyyy?" he whined.

"Oooh, you wanna know _why_ Jack?" the mallard replied in a sarcastically kind tone.

He turned back to the areas he had been isolating, turning the entire band down but Jack's rhythm. Through the sound of the guitar soft giggles could be heard.

Elmo snickered nasally at the quiet chuckles. "Heeh, you got in trouble," he sang.

Jack could just see the snide look through the deeply tinted shades. "Well it's your fault! You shouldn't have been making faces," he retorted huffily.

"YOU were the one making faces!"

"Well YOU provoked me!"

Negaduck growled as the childish spat continued, standing in a surprisingly calm manner to walk towards them. He grabbed roughly at Elmo's hair, fisting his fingers in Jack's hat at the same time so he could smash their heads forcefully together. He smirked amusedly as the two rubbed their now throbbing faces.

"Ok," the singer said clapping his hands together in a very satisfied manner. "Let's take 5."

"Five minutes huh?" Jack said rubbing his chin in thought, his previous pain already forgotten. He turned to the rodent beside him, throwing an arm over his shoulders. "How bout a quicky love spark?"

Elmo blinked stupidly at the other's waggling brows apparently dumbfounded. "Have we ever even done it that quick?" he finally asked.

Jack rolled his eyes in response, dragging his forgetful companion off the couch. "Just move that ass Sparky, time's a wastin'."

Reggie watched them go dumbfounded, grunting slightly as he lifted himself from the floor. Still bleeding hands twined tightly in his coat as he made his way to a nearby bathroom. He grumbled angrily to himself, trying to drown the pain in his fury. He didn't even notice the pity-filled stare from behind him. As he entered the small room he forced himself to face his reflection; he wasn't sure he would ever get used to the bird that stared back. He tried to ignore how terrible he looked. The dark rings below his eyes betrayed his lack of sleep, adding an unhealthy look to his already sloped and shivering demeanor. Reggie finally tore his gaze away from the pathetic picture before him to attend to his suffering fingers.

The miserable mutant held the quivering appendages forlornly under the cooling stream, watching as the soothing liquid melded with the sickly green, stealing the dark blood away. As he watched the soiled water circle the drain, he couldn't help but be reminded of a certain sopping mammal. He groaned miserably at the mental images the fluid produced.

_Damn dog. _

He rummaged beneath the steel-embellished sink, searching desperately for something to contain the persistent flow of blood currently splattering on the tiled floor. Reggie grimaced slightly at the unsettling sound produced as the surprisingly thick fluid hit the ground. He really needed to find some bandages or something. Further inspection of the dark depths finally produced a large role of gauze and various adhesive strips.

It was no surprise that the leaves were difficult to wrap, their slightly thin nature combined with the stiff pain still coursing through them making the task all but impossible. If it wasn't for the fact that they were far thicker than actual leaves he wouldn't have been able to cover them at all. The notion didn't help much given his current issues. He cursed volatilely at the uncooperative cloth strips, trying desperately to make his newly acquired fingers to work well enough to assist him in wrapping the delicate leaves.

He practically jumped out of his green skin at the liquid form that suddenly materialized beside him, the wrappings falling to the floor in his shock. "Gahh! Will you STOP doing that?!" he snapped at the annoyingly smug looking dog.

He didn't wait for a reply before he returned his attention to the infuriating bandages. Reggie couldn't help but feel stupid as he fumbled with the gauze. Bud sighed at the obviously painful attempts resisting the urge to chuckle at how adorable the other looked when he was flustered.

"Just let me help," he finally said, a slightly annoyed edge to his voice.

He was growing tired of watching the other struggle. Wet fingers grasped abruptly at Reggie's tormented appendages, the fluid nature of his form softening the rough way in which he grabbed them.

"You're failing miserably, you know."

Reggie tried to hold back the deep green tinge he knew was spreading across his face, focusing his gaze intently on the place where the other was wrapping his injured fingers in an attempt to keep the other from noticing. He was lucky that Bud was a bit too focused on other things to really pay attention.

Bud suddenly found himself unable to resist the urge to run his fingers along the injured leaves, his water seeping deeper into the bandages to cool the agony-stricken fingers. He hardly noticed the slight shiver that ran through his body at the contact. There was something oddly pleasurable in the touch. Something akin to a tingling heat that spread though his fingers as the water soaked into the other's skin. The wet digits slipped gently along the bandages in an attempt to prompt more of the feeling.

Reggie tried to tell himself that the liquid was not so extremely soothing. It took several moments for him to notice that he was just staring at the place where the drummer was lightly stroking his hands. He yanked his leaves roughly away from the tender touch once he realized the hesitation. His hands twisted together in a characteristic show of discomfort that he had been trying for years to eradicate from his mannerisms. His efforts had obviously fallen short. He cursed internally at how much more his fingers hurt without the contact to the infuriatingly helpful water.

_What the hell makes __**his**__ water so damn different?_

"Uhh, thanks… I guess," he finally said, rubbing at the back of his neck nervously.

Reggie shifted back and forth self-consciously on his roots when Bud continued to stare at him. He couldn't help but feel stupid that he was incapable of looking the canine in the eye. The drummer smiled softly in amusement as the dark green blush spread itself across Reggie's face once again. He wasn't even sure the other noticed but he was starting to grow quite fond of the color on him.

"Well, we'd better be getting back," Bud said softly, trying to rip himself out of yet another bassist-induced trance. "Negs is not known for his patience."

Reggie watched him suspiciously as he left, unable to keep from wondering about his true motives. He shuddered slightly at the sudden barrage of unwanted thoughts that the notion produced. Somehow he was having a hard time convincing himself that this was just how Bud acted. He followed absently, eyes downcast as he followed Bud's wet trail.

He was ripped from the unsettling thoughts when he almost ran into the very dog causing them. His gripes were stopped before they even made it past his bill as he noticed the stares of the rest of the band currently gathered back in the recording area. Reggie was suddenly finding it hard to resist the urge to shrink further behind the watery figure in front of him. He could practically feel the fury behind the glare Negaduck was currently giving them.

"SO nice of you both to grace us with your presence," he growled lowly, the malice in his tone attesting to his obvious displeasure at being kept waiting. "WHAT, pray tell, did you two not understand about 5 MINUTES?!"

"Don't bust a vessel boss. We were just fixing Reginald's recent… modifications," Bud said nonchalantly, making his way smoothly back to his seat.

Negaduck watched him slip back to the hard sofa, eyes narrowed suspiciously. It wasn't long before he turned his red gaze on the other source of his current displeasure. The stare made Reggie wince; he didn't even bother to try and hide it.

"I don't suppose YOU have anything to add, _Reginald_?" Negaduck growled.

"Uhh, I…" he rubbed at his thick hair, trying desperately to produce some kind of answer that wouldn't put him even more on the spot.

"Just get in there and get me my fuckin' track so we can move ON!"

Reggie nodded curtly, grabbing his bass from where he had propped it on the couch. He didn't make it more than a few feet towards the recording room before he was suddenly pulled into a one-armed embrace by Jack.

"Come on Bushy boo! Let's make _beautiful_ music together," the jester purred, mischievous grin spreading across his face at the mildly disgusted look Reggie gave him.

Reggie flinched at the contact of the feathered arm, struggling futilely as it tightened around his neck. He was more or less pulled the rest of the way into the confined recording room; Jack only releasing him once they had made it inside. Negaduck's leg shook impatiently as he waited for them to get situated. The second they both seemed prepared he switched on the speaker that allowed him to talk to them.

"Ok," he growled irately, "WOW me."

The pressure required to force the strings to make a sound stung the leaves and caused them to exude more of the blackish blood, staining the shining guitar surface. Although it was easier to actually play the notes with individual fingers, in many ways it was far more difficult than it had been before. Reggie clenched his teeth against the pain, forcing his fingers to continue the torture. There was no point in stopping now. Jack seemed completely incapable of staying still throughout the course of the song. He was constantly jumping from foot to foot just to keep himself from drifting off. Reggie was just thankful he hadn't decided to occupy himself by putting him through more torture.

Through the glass separating the sound room from the rest of the recording area, Reggie could see the perturbed singer drumming his fingers against the sound board.

"You still suck Reginald!"

Reggie fumed at the comment. "Give me a fuckin' break will ya! I can't seem to get these damn fingers to move properly."

He glanced down at the leafy digits in hopes that an examination would yield the problem. Blue eyes widened as he observed an unexpected addition to his current problems: the leaves were already starting to heal. Reggie's jaw dropped at the strange sight presented as the green skin tried to grow around his bandages. The parts that had not been covered had already merged back together.

"Uhh…" he said softly, hesitating as he watched the unnatural healing, "They're kinda … growing back together."

Negaduck dropped his head onto the sound board, trying to keep himself from banging his forehead into it. "Look just FIX it or I WILL!" he growled, lifting his head so his red eyes could stare at Reggie.

The bassist shuddered at the thought as he looked back down at his fingers. He swallowed thickly as he started to pull at the spot where the two fingers were joining. His entire body trembled as he forced the healing leaves back apart, the unusual tissue inside painting a sickly picture of veins and strange muscle as it was exposed once again. Jack shuddered slightly as another wave of dark blood poured from the wound.

"Wow. That… is seriously disgusting," he said, tongue protruding from his beak slightly in a display of repulsion.

Reggie sighed in relief as he finished separating the two once again, shifting the bandages so that they covered more of the digits. Negaduck pushed him to accomplish something, but the pain in his fingers and loss of blood were making his actions sluggish and inaccurate. Three futile tries and several tantrums later Negaduck was ready to give up.

"FINE!" he yelled, slamming his fists on the surface in front of him, "We'll stop so _Reggie_ can WHINE some more!"

He pushed himself away from where he hand been sitting, practically stomping from the room. Reggie couldn't help but be stung by the mocking way in which he said it. It wasn't like it was his fault that his fingers were currently pouring blood or healing at an impossible rate. An exasperated and overly dramatic sigh from Jack brought his attention to the still bouncy, impatient mallard next to him.

"Well that was a super fun waste of time," Jack said, huffing obnoxiously as he slung his custom guitar over his shoulder and skipped lazily from the room.

The mad giggling that accompanied the other bird out the door made Reggie shudder with displeasure. He was starting to feel the drain of yet another emotionally and physically trying day. All that sounded appealing to the exhausted mallard at the moment was curling up in his room and never coming out.

Reggie's footing faltered slightly as he made his way from the recording room; he paused, placing his hand on the wall and using his guitar for support as he tried to stop the spinning in his head. The horrible feeling only seemed to spread as he stood still, trying to convince the shaking in his legs to stop. It took several painful moments for the sensation to pass. Reggie sighed heavily, putting a hand to his stomach to try and alleviate some of the agonizing stabs still coursing through his abdomen. He was really starting to question if his current vocation was really worth all the suffering. It took several moments for him to finally convince his feet to move, his bark-covered talons scraping against the ground as he did so.

Reggie was far too worn out to even notice the ever-watchful watery gaze that was focused on him. Bud sighed heavily as he watched the disoriented mallard trudge slowly towards the rooms. He couldn't deny the extreme urge to follow him, but he ignored the desire, watching instead until the sluggish mutant was completely out of sight.

Even after Reggie was long gone, Bud couldn't seem to stop staring after him. He sighed again, his watery dreads sagging in a strange external display of melancholy. Such deep thoughts always did spark his long buried depression. He suddenly found himself lacking the will to even keep his form. His water slipped with augmented slowness to the ground, allowing him to make his way to the solitude of his room as little more than a living, creeping puddle.

Bud spread himself lazily across the hard floor, his liquid frame sipping across the marble tiles in an almost lethargic manner. He sighed heavily, staring absently at the ceiling. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't get a certain mutant mallard out of his head. He groaned, turning on his side and reaching out for a nearby bottle of alcohol that he had abandoned by his bed the night before. Moments before the bottle reached his muzzled Bud was stopped by his thoughts yet again. He sighed heavily, letting the glass container fall from his hands onto the floor. For the first time in a long time he knew drinking would just make his mood worse. Bud didn't even notice when the liquor pouring from the now tipped bottle started to seep into his water, only the distant, fuzzy sensation of the alcohol melding with his form gave any warning that the fluid was present at all.

It was hours before the uncharacteristically sullen water dog finally moved, roused only when a quiet sound split the heavy silence around him. He jumped slightly as the soft, and notably timid, knock sounded at his closed door. Bud cocked an eye at the black, poster-covered entry, undeniably curious as to who would be knocking at his door at 5 am. Couldn't be Jack or Negaduck, they never knocked, and the only reason Elmo usually showed up was because his brain was so exhausted or wasted to remember where his own damn room was. Deep down, Bud already knew who it was.

He opened the door almost hesitantly, shuddering slightly at the obnoxious creak let out by its slightly rusted hinges—metal never did fare well around him. He was hardly surprised to find Reggie on the other side of the heavy door. The exhaustion was plain on the mallard's face; the dark circles under his eyes were growing and his whole frame was slumped more than usual. Through the darkness shrouding the corridor Bud could just see Reggie's shaking hands. He winced internally at the blood-saturated bandages; he couldn't help but notice that the wounds seemed even worse than earlier: A sign that he had been spending the last few hours trying to keep them from healing. Even after the door was fully open Reggie didn't look him in the eye. There was a painfully obvious amount of discomfort in his demeanor. His downcast stare and wringing hands were only the most obvious of signs. Bud opened his mouth, about to say something before he was cut off by Reggie.

"I need your help." The statement was brief and concise, laced with a poorly hidden urgency.

Bud blinked at the shifting bassist, flowing his arm behind him to close the door as he stepped from his room. Reggie didn't say anything; he just turned away from the dripping dog pulling his coat around him for comfort. Bud watched him go for a moment as he led the way down the dimly lit hall.

_What the hell am I in for this time?_

He followed Reggie out to the main hall— the Devil Room as it was more affectionately known— watching as he sat down in front of the substantial fire burning in the massive hearth. Bud simply watched him for a moment, slipping silently into the large couch just in front of the fireplace.

"The fire's the only way I can think of to fix it," Reggie finally said into the silence.

"Fix what?" Bud asked softly.

The glow from the fire spread a soft light across Reggie's face as he turned his head over his shoulder so he could see the drummer. "My hands," he whispered, lifting the bandaged appendages into the firelight, "I burned one with my cigarette hours ago it hasn't healed."

He dropped his hands back into his lap, staring dejectedly at the wounded digits. After a moment he stared back into the flames before him once again, hiding his face from the dog. Bud's expression fell as he watched the other. It wasn't hard to discern Reggie's plan.

He slipped gracefully from the couch, seeping gently over to join the other by the fireside. His water crept up next to Reggie, flowing mesmerizingly into the air as Bud reformed himself. From his new position he could once again see the plant-duck's face. He was difficult to read as usual when he got like that: hiding behind his emotionless guise. He didn't react to the other's presence outside of producing another cigarette which he lit by pulling a small stray stick from the hearth.

Bud regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, glancing momentarily at the fire. "What do you want me to do?" he asked softly as he brought his gaze back to the mallard.

Reggie took a deep drag from his cigarette, letting it out slowly as he prepared himself for his answer. "Just go find me a large knife. I'm sure there's one nearby," he replied finally, never looking away from the flames before him.

Bud nodded curtly before allowing his form to disintegrate once again so that he could flow quickly along the ground in search of his query. As Reggie had noted, the search didn't take long. Negaduck always had a collection of knives littering the house. He only carried those he favored with him at all times. He returned quickly to the far end of the room where Reggie was currently removing the wrappings slowly from his injured leaves. The aggravated wounds were a sickly black color, encrusted with dried blood from the constant attempts to keep them separated.

"Give me the knife," he said holding one of his stained hands out to the dog as the other flicked his already expended smoke into the fire.

Bud held the knife out to him handle first, gripping the blade tightly as Reggie tried to pull it away. The resistance quickly gained his attention, Reggie shifting his eyes slowly, forcing them to look at Bud. The dark pools of the other's eyes stared at him harshly, strong questions behind the look.

"You sure about this?" he asked seriously.

"No. But if you think I'm slicing my hands open one more goddamn time you're insane," Reggie replied, growling seriously at him.

Bud only hesitated a moment before relinquishing the large blade to the bassist. Reggie shoved the knife deep into the extensive supply of red hot coals within the metal confines of the fireplace. He leaned back against the hard table behind them, new cigarette already smoldering as he waited for the weapon to heat. The dog beside him crossed his liquid legs, sitting back to watch as the other smoked. Reggie was starting to grow irritated at the constant scrutinizing. He shifted nervously under the gaze, quickly growing unable to ignore the other.

Reggie never did like being stared at.

"What?!" he finally snapped, wrapping his arms around himself in a grasp for comfort.

Several long moments without a response finally coaxed Reggie into looking enough over his shoulder so that he could see the drummer beside him. Even through the dark Reggie could see the sympathy in Bud's stare, but that was hardly what was so irresistible about seeing the other in the firelight. The pale orange illumination reflected off the sparkling liquid of his form, dancing across the constantly flowing water in an unusually stunning display. Reggie could spend a century with the canine and probably understand only a minute portion of the man concealed beneath that churning surface. He swallowed thickly as he turned his gaze back towards the fire, all thoughts of producing an answer from the drummer long gone. Timid fingers reached into the hearth, pulling gently at the large knife still nestled in the coals. The gentle red glow that was now painted upon the blade's surface was almost mesmeric. Reggie tried his best to ignore the thoughts of what came next.

He didn't even notice when Bud slipped silently closer, flowing gracefully forward to sit beside him. Reggie was only mildly aware of his presence. His face was glazed over in an emotionless guise, hypnotized by the glowing knife in his hand. The strange spell continued until the cooling sensation of Bud's hands slipped over his, stealing the blade away with a surprising amount of tenderness. Reggie finally snapped out of his stupor, yanking his hand away from the liquid appendage that still lingered on it. Bud paid the action little mind. He glanced down briefly at the blade now clenched in his flowing grip before returning his gaze to meet Reggie's face. The other still wouldn't look him in the eye.

"How do you want me to do this?" Bud questioned gently, his voice barely a whisper in the massive room.

Reggie swallowed around the dry feeling in his throat, finally forcing himself to meet Bud's questioning stare. "Just… just press them both against it at the same time. I am NOT doing this more than twice!" Reggie replied, his voice faltering at the thought of allowing the other to burn his already throbbing hands.

Bud nodded gently. Stroking his dripping fingers softly along the delicate leaves; for the first time, Reggie didn't resist the touch. Bud held the leaves on both sides so that he could press them together. He paused just before forcing the trembling fingers to contact the hot metal, bringing his focus to the gently shivering bassist.

The pain was indescribable. Mere moments after the searing blade had contacted the already wounded fingers Reggie began to scream, yanking his hand from the cool grip of the other as his body instinctively pulled away. He was completely unaware of what was going on around him as he pulled away from the source of his anguish. His still bellowing cries went unheard by him as he withered in pain, trapped in his own torturous reality.

As the agony finally began to let go, he registered Bud's face above him and the muffled sounds of his voice. Reggie couldn't tell what he was saying. He shook his head harshly at the other, trying weakly to push him away. Bud grabbed him roughly in response, forcing the thrashing duck's back against his chest so that he could hold him against his cool water. Reggie panted coarsely; head craned upward and teeth clenched in pain. As the mallard's jolting body began to quiet its movements, the drummer behind him shifted one of his arms to grip him tightly in case he moved again as the other formed beneath the tormented leaf that the other was clutching to his chest. Reggie didn't resist as the throbbing appendage was pulled into the cooling waters of the others digits.

His bill parted in relief as the soothing effect of the water sunk in. A shaky sigh slipped quietly from his beak as he pulled his head from its resting place on Bud's shoulder, his gaze focusing blurrily on the place where the other was pushing gentle streams along his quivering hand. He groaned miserably, lifting himself from the drummer's form. He moved on shaking legs, ignoring the question from the band member behind him as he shoved the still warm knife back into the fire.

"Just do the other one before I lose my fucking nerve," he said through chattering teeth, staring at him with weary eyes.

Bud took pity on the despondent duck, pulling him wordlessly back into his grip to keep him from jumping across the room this time around. Reggie remained quiet, ignoring the other as he yanked the knife from the coals and pressed it quickly between the fingers on his other hand. He couldn't stop the screams that inevitably came at the contact. Wooded heels scraped desperately against the ground as he tried to move away from pain he couldn't escape. The blade fell to the floor with a clatter as Bud gripped both the bassist's hands as best he could in attempt to keep the other under control.

Reggie sunk his teeth into his bottom bill, muffling his cries to a mere echo of what they were. He continued to fight weakly against the liquid arms surrounding him. Two pain-filled tears slipped through the tightly clenched corners of his eyes, painting wet trails down his heated cheeks. Bud's chest grew heavy at the sight: he couldn't help but feel sorry for the suffering duck.

He held the other tightly until the thrashing stopped and blue eyes began to droop with exhaustion. Reggie's entire body was suddenly limp in his arms, drained of every ounce of energy he'd spent trying to fight off the suffering. Bud grasped him in his arms as gently as he could; taking care to keep Reggie's shaking fingers submerged in his water as he lifted him off the floor. He could barely tell if Reggie was still awake with the way his long bangs obscured his face. Either way Bud knew he wouldn't be conscious long.

He wasted little time in returning the bassist to the safety of his room. Although he didn't say it, Reggie was grateful for the swiftness. A soft, shaky groan passed his bill as Bud sat him in the large bed, helping him remove his coat before he laid himself gingerly onto the mattress. He was barely conscious of what the other was doing around him, but he didn't resist when Bud started wrapping his still shaking fingers back in bandages.

"You uh… need anything?" Bud asked once he had finished— the sudden discomfort quite apparent in his voice.

He rubbed at the back of his neck nervously when Reggie didn't answer right away. The nod he finally received was very brief and barely visible.

"Cigarette," he said, his horse voice barely above a whisper.

Bud's mouth twitched into a slight smile at the single word. It was somehow comforting that Reggie was not in so much pain that he could ignore his need for nicotine. Bud slipped his hand into the long coat's pocket, quickly fishing out the pack and lighter. He shook the box to allow one of the cigarettes to protrude far enough that the other had access to it. He had to remind himself that grabbing one out for the bassist would only ruin the smoke. Reggie took the cigarette with trembling fingers, placing it in his bill and allowing the other to light it for him.

Reggie gazed distantly across the room, content to sit in the mutual silence; it was obvious that he was pretty out of it. Bud just sat there for several long moments as the disoriented mallard smoked. As the cancerous stick started to come to the end of its life, it quickly became apparent that Reggie was having a hard time remaining conscious. Bud stared at the other in contemplation for a moment, his look of lament painfully obvious to anyone who would care to try and see it. He sighed softly as he slipped from the chair, making his way towards the door.

"Bud."

The quiet voice prompted his attention back to the groggy bassist, staring into the other's exhausted eyes through the darkness. He slid slowly closer to the bed, his nonexistent heart pounding in his chest.

"Yeah Reg?"

Reggie just stared for a moment, the cigarette threatening to fall from his beak as he gazed at the dripping dog. He could hardly concentrate through his own hazy thoughts but he owed the other something at least.

"Thanks," he finally said eyes already slipping closed as he slid into unconsciousness. Despite his exhaustion, the sincerity in the statement was not lost on Bud.

A small, cockeyed smile painted his face as he moved closer to the nearly sleeping bassist in order to catch the still burning cigarette before it fell to Reggie's bare chest. His water quickly soaked into the thin paper, extinguishing the burning end with a soft sizzle. The helpful action was lost on Reggie; his mind already captured by the oblivion of sleep. The duck's unconscious state allowed for the first real chance Bud had had to observe him since his transformation. The lavender strands looked irresistibly soft. He couldn't resist the sudden need to touch them. Wet fingers shifted through the soft, purple mass, the contact sending an odd sensation through his liquid frame. Bud doubted that he would ever get tired of the strange tingling that was produced when his water contacted the other mutant's plant-like skin. He almost smiled at the way Reggie shifted into the gentle touch. It was a strange treat to see the other with his guard down. No masks or false feelings, just Reggie. Perhaps he wasn't so hard to read after all.

"Any time Reginald. Any time."

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><p>So… sorry to say things are only going to get more painful for poor Reggie xD But at least ya had some nice Buddy bonding in there too x)<p>

Might be awhile before I get to Ch 6 so till then enjoy this lovely long chapter. I might get to the next one faster if people leave comments *hint *hint


	6. One of Those Days

Authors note: Wow, what to even say about this chapter… Well, I probably put waay too much work into it. Quite honestly I could take out most of this one and the plot wouldn't suffer at all. So sorry if it bores you. But hey, they're my boys. If I wanna babble on about them then I will! Muwahahaha!

I have NEVER had as many issues with a chapter as I did with this one so you'd better love me for it anyway. Enjoy my lovelies.

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><p>Bud hated being bored.<p>

He had been slipping absently through the manor's corridors for hours now and he was starting to go stir crazy. After the annoyingly unproductive preceding day, Negaduck had demanded quiet the next morning. It was never a good idea to get on his bad side on a day like that. Jack and Elmo were currently occupied with a video game, which was never somewhere he wanted to be when Jack was involved, and Reggie had been banished to his room until he knew at least the first half of their new album by heart.

The dripping drummer was currently faced with an annoying lack of things to do.

His aimless wandering eventually brought him past the band member rooms. The dim light in the hall was oddly soothing. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't even realize where he was until the soft sound of music filtered towards him. It wasn't a surprise once he noted where he had roamed to, but when Bud passed by the room that housed the bassist, what he heard was not a familiar tune.

Bud tilted his head curiously as he moved closer to the intriguing music. Through the slightly open door Bud could hear the soft sounds of Reggie's bass accompanied by a far more stunning and unexpected melody. It was faint, but through the deep tones of the guitar's strings he could hear the gentle sound of Reggie singing. The quiet baritone was somehow incredibly enchanting, and accompanied by the low music of the bass it was an impressively captivating sound. Bud slipped his head through the opening, observing the other silently. The gentle morning light forcing its way into the room was a stark contradiction to the dimly lit hall, illuminating the chamber's resident in an irresistibly beautiful manner. From his position by the door, it was quite apparent to the dripping drummer that Reggie was currently in his own world. He was reclined lazily on the bed in an uncharacteristically relaxed fashion, smoldering cigarette hanging from his bill as he sang, causing his smoke to dance entrancingly through the hazy rays of sunlight. Bud couldn't help but be somewhat impressed at how he managed to sing around the stick, taking drags every now and then. In front of him, a collection of music was spread out, the sheets littering the large bed and adding a cluttered feel to the surroundings.

Bud watched as new and still bandaged fingers slipped expertly across the heavy strings. He was amazed at the unique ways in which Reggie was using his thumbs to help compensate for being down a few fingers. It made his movements fascinating to watch. The captivated canine rested his body against the door frame, just watching as Reggie lost himself in his own music. The brief audition and painful modifications had kept them from really realizing the extent of the mallard's talent, but Bud was quickly realizing that Reggie was a lot better than any of them had probably realized. He couldn't deny that he was disappointed when the song started to trail off: evidence that the self-conscious duck had finally realized that he was being watched. A blue eye angled to the side through purple bangs, affirming the mallard's suspicion that he was being observed. Bud was unable to control the toothy smile that crept across his face as the other focused his attention fully on him.

Reggie cocked a brow at the grin. "Yes _Buddy_?" he shot the drummer a confused look when the name caused the watery grin to extend.

"Hmm nothin'," Bud replied lazily, "Just bored." His body slipped fluidly from its position by the door as he moved further into the sun-saturated room. "You really have quite a voice there ya know."

Reggie didn't reply. His eyes sank in a self-conscious manner, shifting to the side and away from the watery canine. It was suddenly obvious to Bud that the other mutant was considerably apprehensive around him at the moment. He hadn't considered how uncomfortable it would make Reggie to be so vulnerable in front of him as he had the night before.

He looked exhausted.

The silence stretched on as the insecure mallard resisted replying. Injured fingers danced slowly across the strings once again as Reggie tried to distract himself from the discomfort.

The action caught Bud's attention, prompting him to inquire about the recent modifications. "How those fingers treating ya?" he questioned, trying to keep the extent of his concern from his voice.

Reggie lifted a hand examining the bandaged fingers. "They hurt like a bitch," he paused to pull the cigarette from his mouth, nestling the stick between his two newly acquired digits. "But they make smoking a hell of a lot easier."

Bud chortled at the observation. "Funny you don't strike me as a look on the bright side kinda person."

"Cigarettes are my bright side," Reggie muttered in reply, a slight scowl settling on his face.

Bud tilted his head at the comment, his dripping ears and locks slipping to the side in a way that made Reggie feel oddly warm. There was something undeniably adorable in the action, something very much like a puppy tilting its head at a beloved owner. It made the bassist shift his eyes away again. He was too tired to deal with the inquisitive drummer at the moment. That hardly deterred Bud from his sudden need to be in the other's presence. He was just bored. Or so he told himself.

"Reggie," he said softly.

The mutant finally lifted his head to look at him fully once again. Bud cocked a watery brow at the sudden, wide-eyed expression that planted on the other's face. He shifted his gaze behind him to try and see what caused the abrupt change in behavior. He jumped slightly at the unexpected sight of the short mallard, recoiling somewhat at the harsh red eyes that were now focused menacingly on him. Reggie shrank back subconsciously at the other's entrance; he could swear just the sight of the singer made his fingers throb with the memories he elicited.

"Uh… what's up boss?" Bud finally said awkwardly.

"You," Negaduck growled, grabbing the drummer roughly by the collar and dragging him down to his level. "Come with me. You!" he continued, turning his narrowed gaze to the bassist, "Keep playing till your fucking fingers fall off." With a final snarl he dragged Bud from the room, black collar clenched in his shaking fist.

Reggie didn't quite know how to react to the scene he had just witnessed. He crept somewhat hesitantly to the door, pushing it open cautiously to peer down the dim hall. He sighed quietly in relief when he didn't see the others. Still sore fingers trembled slightly as he pushed the door open again. A strong feeling of entrapment had been nagging at him that entire morning and he wasn't sure he could handle the further sense of claustrophobia that the closed entrance caused. Even the tall balcony doors across the room were already wide open in an attempt to offer some relief from the unsettling feeling that had been growing in his chest. The hot breeze, humid and hazy with tainted air, did little to help his already ailing lungs, but he couldn't deny that he needed the small sense of freedom.

As the hours wore on his fingers began to burn from the continued abuse and the notes before him began to blur as his vision fatigued. He seriously needed to find something he was capable of eating otherwise he doubted he would be able to remain conscious. Finally he couldn't stand the confined space anymore. Negaduck's orders or not he needed out. He slung his bass over his back, stretching his neck outside the door before slipping from the room.

He couldn't seem to stop his eyes from roaming nervously back and forth as he slunk down the hallway, blue eyes searching tensely for any possible danger. He half expected to see glowing red eyes staring him down after every turn. A strange sense of relief flooded over him as the dim passage gave way to the devil room; he tried desperately to ignore the disconcerting feeling that the room's large statue still provoked. Lucky for him the room's two residents provided more than ample distraction from the eerie figure.

"Gahhhh! That. Is. IT!" Jack yelled furiously, game controller shaking between his fists. "I quit! I quit, I quit, I QUIT! This game is no fun, AND it cheats!"

Elmo squealed in terror as the furious jester made to chuck the white controller at the massive flat-screen before them, launching himself at the mallard to rescue the two electrical devices before they suffered an unfortunate meeting. Jack growled in testament to his displeasure at his recent cybernetic defeat, his fists clenching and shaking slightly in his anger as he fumed at the large screen.

"Jaaack you said you'd be good to me today," Elmo whined pitifully, a strangely fatigued and desperate edge to his voice.

"Fuck this! I don't care if you feel icky today Mo you can just play with your own damn self!" the volatile mallard yelled, stomping dramatically from the room, fists still clenched and back hunched in his childish fury.

"Awww you never wanna do what _I _wanna do," Elmo pouted softly as his angered companion left, sinking further into the couch cushions as he slumped miserably.

The depressed expression made it very hard for Reggie not to feel bad for the rodent; He looked awful. His slender frame periodically shook with harsh shudders and despite the dark glasses shielding his eyes from sight it was hard to ignore the fact that they looked sunken in and tired. It was as though his whole body was being racked by an invisible torment. The rodent's entire demeanor was a strange echo of Reggie's own making the bassist abnormally empathetic.

It took a few moments but the despairing rat finally caught sight of Reggie through the corner of his eye. A grin suddenly lit his features.

"Heeeey, Reggie!" he cried happily, jumping swiftly and unexpectedly from his spot before the TV and running over to the shocked mallard still standing by the stairs. "You have fingers now!"

"Uhh, yeah. You remembered... I'm impressed."

"Will you play with me?"

Reggie blinked in slight disbelief at the question, more taken aback by the happy, childish way in which the guitarist said it than the request itself. He opened his mouth to decline, but somehow the pleading, hopeful look that Elmo conjured made it impossible for him to say no and add to the other's misery. Even if he probably would forget it minutes later.

"Yeah, alright… But just one game."

It didn't take long for one game to turn into hours of being glued to the screen. Elmo was a crazy gamer but Reggie found it surprisingly entertaining to watch the rodent kick his virtual ass so expertly. There were two things that he had learned about the rodent over the past few hours: he was markedly less obnoxious without his cackling, insufferable companion around, and he actually liked to smoke. Reggie wasn't sure why, but there was something comforting about having a fellow smoker around. He was starting to realize that he didn't mind the voltage junkie too much; although the rodent's choice in conversation definitely left something to be desired.

"So here I think I'm doing it with some fine electrical lady and it turns out I'm just fuckin' the toaster!" The rodent finally paused his mindless babbling to take a long hit from his smoke, playing one-handed for a moment as he slouched further into the couch cushions. "True story, didn't piss right for a month." Elmo's eyes narrowed in testament to his annoyance at the memory.

Reggie cocked a slightly disturbed brow at the rodent. Despite the briefness of the look, it was a sufficient distraction for Elmo to put a swift end to his electronic counterpart currently fighting within the TV's confines. Slightly annoyed eyes narrowed at the now dead character as Reggie threw his controller lightly to the side in favor of lighting a fresh cigarette.

Elmo laughed ecstatically as their latest round came to an end, cancerous fumes billowing from his nose as he snickered. "Fuck this is awesome! No one ever plays with me for this long!" He paused his sniggers to look at the smoking mallard beside him. "You're actually pretty good at this. You won five whole times!" He said it as though it was the most amazing thing ever.

Reggie shrugged flicking his cigarette against one of the many ashtrays that had been placed around the house since his transformation. "I might have been a video game tester briefly."

"Video game tester… how the hell'd you end up doing that?"

"I stole someone's identity and kinda got sucked into the part too much… it did not end well."

"Hmmm…. What'd you steal?"

Reggie shook his head at the rodent, his blank face hiding his slight amusement.

"One more round Mo."

"Yaaaay! I am SO gonna kick your ass!"

"Oh I see. I spend the whole day in misery, waiting for YOU and you're out here talking about Reggie's ass," an overly dramatic and pouty voice sounded from behind them.

Elmo tilted his head back to rest against the couch as he look up at the sulking mallard above him. "Heeey, hiya Jacky!" he said grinning stupidly.

"Don't you _hiya Jacky_ me! When I storm off you're supposed to console me not sit around being gay with _Reggie_! And you're smoking!" he yelled snatching the smoldering stick from his friend's muzzle.

"Why the hell can't I smoke anyway?" Elmo whined in reply, watching in mild disappointment as the mallard forcefully put out his cigarette.

"Cause you have an addictive personality! And I refuse to have you and your cancer ruining my complexion all day long."

Elmo whined pitifully; he was in no condition to handle his friend's dramatic tendencies at the moment. "Jaaaack, can't you just… _not_ be mad at me?"

The still slightly fuming mallard sighed obnoxiously in response. "I can _never_ stay mad at you when you're like this," he paused to wrap his arms around the other's neck, stroking his bare chest playfully. "It's not fair."

Reggie cocked a brow at the pair as the conversation slipped into whispered, comforting talk. From what he could hear of what they were saying he was pretty sure he knew what was ailing the slender rodent. Not that he was about to say anything. He had to admit that he was happy when the resident drummer chose that moment to join them. The increasingly intimate display was starting to make him feel very uncomfortable.

The shifting crystal blue at the corner of his eye was all that alerted him to the dogs's presence; he was happy to even have that. Usually he never knew where or when the sly dog would show up. He immediately noted the weighted manner in which Bud was carrying himself. The slouching drummer looked strangely exhausted, his shoulders slumped and dreadlocks sagging as though weighed down by his suddenly depressed mood. Reggie stared curiously at the odd way in which his form seemed to be shuddering, a strange, trembling wave running through his entire body; if he didn't know better he would have thought the watery canine was in pain. It looked like it was turning out to be a pretty miserable day for all of them.

He was not alone. Just behind him, fists clenched and obviously fuming, was Negaduck. There was a collective feeling of tension amongst the room's occupants. They all knew they were in for another angry speech.

He stormed swiftly to the front of the room, staring them down furiously. "Everybody SIT DOWN! NOW!"

For once Jack just did as he was told, not even bothering to move around the couch to oblige. He pressed his palms on the back of the cushions to jump over the back of the dark furniture; it made for a far quicker compliance anyway. Elmo almost immediately pressed his cheek gently to the mallard's shoulder as he settled beside him. He needed the slight sense of comfort. Bud slipped as quickly and obediently as possible from where he had been inconspicuously standing to sit next to Reggie on the couch. The bassist shifted over to make more room when he saw the other coming. Questioning eyes fixed on the dripping canine. For once it was Bud's turn to avoid his gaze. He didn't even want to _try_ and explain his current discomfort to the bassist. He pulled at the collar encircling his neck suddenly very tired of its presence. Reggie couldn't help but be curious at the action.

"Alright assholes listen up and listen good. I've been going over shit and there's gonna be some changes around here. FIRST of all, I'm tired of you all dicking around! We have very little time to get this done and as of now _all_ of your parts have been revised."

The statement immediately elicited a collective groan from Reggie's band mates.

"SHUT UP!" Negaduck snapped harshly in reply. "Now all you whiny bitches listen to me and listen closely," the last word was growled, spoken harshly and backed by a serious tone. "You have all got a LOT of new shit to learn and YOU still don't know half the parts that have NOT been changed!" Negaduck finished at a yell, pointing an accusing angry finger at Reggie. "We have four months. FOUR MONTHS to get this damn thing finished! So we are on LOCKDOWN until further notice! No one leaves, no sneaking visitors in, and no FUCKING around! You will live and breathe metal until this is PERFECT!"

Although the rant continued, no one was quite willing to pay attention. None of them were happy to hear they had new stuff to learn and they were all quite engrossed with brewing over the news. Reggie was the only one who didn't care much. Considering he barely knew his parts as it was, little had changed for him. He was currently more concerned about the state of his own person. He was scarcely even aware of what was going on around him and the longer the speech stretched on the worse he fared. The hazy feeling that had been growing in his head since he woke was getting worse, and he was starting to have a hard time fighting it. With a nearly inaudible groan, he finally lost the battle with unconsciousness.

The abrasive bang produced as he hit the table in front of them caused the shuddering rodent beside him to jump harshly in shock. He cocked a curious brow at the unexpectedly unconscious mutant. "Uhhh… I think we just lost Reggie."

Negaduck's eye twitched erratically at the continued delay in his plans. "I hate bassists."

The fact that it was Bud that chose to aid the exhausted mallard only served to worsen his mood. He shot the dripping drummer a harsh glare as he moved to try and help the other. Bud swallowed thickly in response, retracting the arms that had extended to help his fellow mutant. His aid was not as necessary as he had expected anyway. The collision with the short table had been sufficient to wake the bassist from his disoriented state and he was already lifting himself back up. Reggie groaned, rubbing leafy fingers along his forehead as he tried to pull his exhausted body back into the conscious world.

"SO nice of you to join us again Reggie," Negaduck growled.

"Holy shit I need food," the groggy bassist muttered, almost unaware that he was even talking to the singer.

"FOOOD! I SO vote for food," Jack cried, bouncing slightly on the couch and lifting his hand in the air as if it had actually been a vote. "Don't know what the hell you're gonna feed Reggie though. We ain't got any plant food here," he finished, snorting quietly at the slight pun.

"Can't we just… feed him dirt or somethin'?" Elmo offered.

Negaduck blinked irately at him in response. "THAT is… the smartest dumb thing you've ever said," the singer finished, his anger quieted somewhat at the surprising display of mental faculties for the rodent.

"Gee, thanks," Elmo muttered irately in reply.

"Alright fine, you are allowed to feed your filthy faces, but after that learn your fuckin' parts! And then we are gonna do a take."

This time Reggie joined the collective groan. Negaduck's temple pounded at the sound. His eye twitched as he rubbed at the throbbing vein in his head.

"You know what? FUCK it! I am so done with you assholes. Enjoy your fucking day off! BUT LEARN YOUR PARTS!"

"What about the bassist? How we supposed to feed him?" Jack called at the retreating singer. "Not exactly a lot of plant dirt in this place."

"Let the fucking servants take care of it!"

Jack huffed slightly at the response, crossing his arms over his chest and flopping back against the couch cushions. "Great, now we gotta track down a fucking servant." He jumped from the plush sofa, reaching backwards blindly to grip at the cords hanging from his fellow guitarist's slim torso. "But in the meantime I'm hungry! And you are gonna eat too," he snapped at the still shuddering Elmo as he pulled him to his feet by the black wires.

Elmo simply groaned in response as he was dragged away; eating didn't sound too appealing at the moment.

"Mm… I sure could use a drink," Bud finally spoke, concurring with the idea to move to the kitchen.

Reggie barely noticed as the watery canine slipped after the others. He groaned when they had all left, putting a bandaged hand around his midsection. He wasn't too fond of the idea of _eating_ dirt but he sure hoped they found it quick because he had never been so hungry in his life and he was pretty much willing to try anything. With a final groan he lifted his lightly shaking body from the floor. He followed slowly, dragging his feet and rubbing his stomach as he went. The brightness of the kitchen lights made him squint slightly from the drastic change. Through the large windows he could see that the sun outside had already started to set; he hadn't realized how late it was.

Bud was rifling through the many cupboards, collecting various bottles of alcohol and placing them together on the counter. From the looks of things he intended to spend his day off getting smashed. Jack had apparently tracked down one of the many underlings and was now barking ridiculously specific instructions for his food at him from his place at the table. Beside him his suffering companion was sitting with his elbows propped on the table and forehead resting in his hands. He was currently staring at all the revised music that had apparently been brought to them. The shudders still tormenting the rodent seemed to grow worse at the sight of the many sheets of changed notes. Whatever was wrong with him, it seemed to be getting worse.

Reggie finally moved further into the room, dropping his body uncouthly into the chair beside the oblivious rodent. Elmo paid him essentially no notice. The same could not be said for his boisterous companion. Jack's face lit up, impish grin spreading across his large bill as he noticed the other's presence. It was the first time that Reggie had really sat with them voluntarily and it was an undeniable source of delight for Jack.

He surely would have found some annoying way to lighten his mood if Elmo hadn't chosen that moment to have a breakdown.

"ALL our songs have changed!" the frazzled guitarist yelled, gripping at his hair with both hands as the pace of his breathing started to increase, "I'm never gonna learn all this shit in four months! Negs is gonna get all pissed and then I'm gonna get all fucked up-"

"Mo, MO!" Jack interjected, grabbing the freaked out rodent by the shoulders and shaking him slightly, "Get _ahold_ of yourself babes. I'll help you learn it."

Elmo dropped his head back whining dramatically. "I don't waaaanna!" After a moment of pathetic moaning, he sighed heavily, focusing his gaze back on his friend. "I need my guitar Jacky."

Jack snorted slightly at the drastic change in tone between the two sentences. "Yeah, alright. YOU! Jerk who is not cooking me food. Go get Mo's guitar."

Bud finally decided to join them as the second servant shuffled obediently from the room. He deposited a ridiculous armful of different intoxicating beverages on the table as he sat, opening one immediately and taking a long drink from it. Reggie cocked a brow at the chugging drummer. The other two guitarists didn't seem to even notice. They were quite accustomed to the amount of alcohol Bud drank when he got in moods like that. Reggie shook his head slightly at the drinking canine, shifting quietly to rest his chin on the table so that he could clutch his suffering torso without the others noticing.

It wasn't long before the employee that had been sent to retrieve Elmo's guitar from the other room returned. The distressed rodent hugged the instrument briefly as it was handed to him, comforted somewhat by the presence of the beloved electrical item. He immediately began to pluck at the strings, sinking down in his chair with a sigh as the other servant began to set different plates of food in front of them. Although none of it looked particularly appetizing to Reggie, there was one dish that he would have preferred not to see at all: an outrageously-sized portion of mashed potatoes.

"Yay! Comfort fooood!" Jack crooned, clapping his hands childishly at the array of greasy delicacies that had been placed before him.

Elmo merely sniffed his own portion distastefully, making a small noise of disgust and sticking his tongue out in response to the mass of lumpy starch. Neither of them noticed the sudden look of repulsion that had painted itself all over a certain mutant mallard's face. Elmo shoved his plate in front of the currently wide-eyed bassist absently before returning his attention to his continuous string plucking. Reggie wasn't sure whether it was a silent offering or just an absentminded dismissal of the nourishment, but either way the response it elicited was almost immediate.

His chair legs scrapped harshly against the ground as he jolted from the seat, standing and backing urgently away from the repugnant food. The obnoxious noise had been sufficient to gain him the attention of the entire table, and as he finally managed to tare his thoughts away from the irrational distress the potatoes elicited he fully realized how stupid he must look. Once he finally convinced himself to look up at his gaping band mates he immediately found himself wishing that he hadn't. It was impossible to miss the blatantly amused expression behind Jack's look, and Reggie didn't appreciate it one bit.

"_Leeaving_ us so soon Reginald?" the jester queried, wiggling his brows obnoxiously at him.

"Oh there has GOT to be an interesting story behind that one," Bud noted, amused smirk slowly slipping across his face.

"Well there isn't!" Reggie replied huffily, crossing his arms over his chest.

His stance did little to aid his claim.

"Riiiight," Jack responded.

"Look, I just… don't like potatoes," Reggie muttered lamely.

"I'll say. _Damn_," Jack cackled. He shoved a finger into the mount of starch in front of him, swirling it around to collect some of the mass. "You _sure_ you don't want some spud stud?" he questioned sensually, licking his long tongue up the digit to lap the potato away.

Reggie shuddered disgustedly at the sight, turning from the table and making his way to the balcony, body still shivering in repulsion as he went; he wasn't sure what made him more nauseous, the potatoes or the mallard still lapping at them. It was hard to ignore the insane cackles that followed him. He suddenly needed a smoke very desperately.

In fact, he had five smokes— one right after another without even really thinking about it. He needed the solitude. He'd been trying to keep it hidden, but his fingers were really starting to hurt and his emotional state wasn't faring much better. His resolve finally broke without the threat of anyone seeing him. Soft groans of misery sounded into the night as Reggie flicked his latest cigarette over the balcony edge, getting rid of the stick so that he could hold his shaking hands to his chest as the pain spread. He curled the fingers together, quivering digits held tightly against each other in an attempt to ease the agony.

It didn't.

From behind him a certain drummer watched silently. It was fairly hard to tell from his position what exactly the bassist was doing, but his soft groans were enough to tell Bud that he was certainly in pain. He looked forlornly at the shivering mallard. Despite the risk of incurring Negaduck's wrath yet again, he had to do something to help. His water shimmered in the waning light as he slipped silently towards the despairing bird. The other didn't even notice the sopping form until Bud was practically right beside him. The abrupt and unexpected appearance provoked the usual response.

Reggie clutched at his chest, growling softly and glaring. He didn't even have to say anything that time to tell the fluid dog what he was thinking.

"I'm sorry," Bud chuckled, "I'm not _trying_ to sneak up on you."

"Yeah well, can you _not try_ harder? You're driving me nuts," Reggie muttered through clenched teeth.

It was hard to ignore the way he was still twining his fingers together in pain.

Bud's face fell at the sight of the shaking digits. "You know I could—" he didn't even have the chance to continue before the bassist shot him a warning glare.

Bud's locks drooped miserably at the abrupt and silent dismissal. He knew Reggie just didn't want to feel weak but he couldn't help but feel rejected at the action.

"You know it makes them feel better," he finally finished, his soft voice barely audible.

Reggie clenched his teeth harder, hands still stubbornly protected against his coat. He was having a difficult time denying them the relief. With a final glance to the kitchen to assure himself that the two obnoxious residents still inside wouldn't be able to see them, he finally gave in, relinquishing the quivering leaves to the drummer.

The deep tint spread across Reggie's face almost exactly on cue as the fluid slipped over his aching fingers. It actually would have helped him if the dripping canine hadn't taken them so tenderly. In spite of his awkwardness, Reggie couldn't control the quiet sigh of relief that fell from his bill at the cooling water. There was a peculiar curing quality to the drummer's form that normal water simply lacked. Reggie was really starting to wish that wasn't true.

Bud couldn't keep his eyes off the mallard's face. The look of relief softened his features making the moment suddenly very irresistible. Mixed with the tingling feeling the contact produced it was enough to distract the drummer from everything around him. He wouldn't have complained if the moment lasted for hours, but as usual it was far more fleeting than he would have preferred, a swift end being put to the serenity when a certain juvenile jester decided to make an appearance.

"Oy, Bushy boo! They got your shit here! Heehheahhaha, get it? SHIT! Cause it's fertilizer!"

The annoying chortling continued as Jack pulled his head back inside. Reggie grimaced at the way he could still hear it even through the glass barrier separating them. He yanked his hands abruptly away from the cool streams as the initial shock wore off, blush spreading more forcefully across his face as he realized the vulnerable position he had put himself in once again. He didn't even give Bud the chance to say anything before following swiftly after the animated rhythmist. Bud sighed, following dejectedly after the departing bassist. He was starting to really despise the emotional turmoil the flowery-mallard managed to keep putting him through.

Back in the kitchen, the still miserable rodent was now situated nearby the large sink, hunched over slightly and looking far sicker than he had previously. Reggie had a feeling it had something to do with the greasy, starchy masses of food still being made for the guitarist currently patting his back gently.

"Aww, poor Mo Mo," Jack said, his voice a mix of comforting and teasing, "Wanna go back to playing your FILTHY video games?"

Despite his genuine desire to make his playmate feel better, the shudders that ran down his spine at the suggestion attested to how badly Jack actually wanted to suffer more of the virtual anguish.

"Nooo, I think I'll just hang out with the garbage disposal for a while," Elmo replied miserably, propping his arms on the side of the sink as he tried to make his bent position more comfortable.

"Fine, suit yourself," Jack replied, his attention turning to the two mutants that had just reentered the manor.

If only the distracted bassist had noticed the mischievous grin that was suddenly being sent his way.

Reggie lowered himself back into the seat he had previously been occupying, resting his chin on his palms as yet another anonymous underling set about pouring soil into a container for him. The somewhat repulsed feeling was difficult for Reggie to ignore despite the fact that just the sight of the dirt suddenly made him want it very badly. He tipped his head at the tub of high quality potting soil that was placed at his feet.

"Uhh… thanks," he said awkwardly to the retreating servant.

He never would get used to having people around to wait on him.

Timid feet pushed the container under the table so that he could have better access to it without moving his position. It took more resolve than he expected to keep the pleasurable look off his face as he worked wooded toes deep into the nutrient rich dirt. The sensation was hardly what he had expected. He could almost feel the nourishment seeping through the vascular system of his lower half, spreading the life-saving sustenance through him in a way that was difficult to comprehend. Heavy lids fluttered closed as the feeling settled in his gut, soothing some of the horrible pangs of hunger that had been ailing him all day.

The relief was fleeting, quickly being stripped away when a certain local annoyance decided to join him. He shuddered harshly, disgusted and mildly terrified expression crossing his face as Jack plopped into the chair beside him, one arm behind his back and one propped on the table to support his head as he stared at Reggie. The mutant's brow twitched when the other didn't say anything.

"What?!" he finally snapped at the grinning mallard, annoyance plain on his face.

The answer was curt and undeniably unexpected.

"Potato!" Jack cried elatedly, smacking a previously concealed handful of mashed spuds into the irritated mutant's face.

Reggie cried out in shock and unfounded terror at the unexpected facial. He jumped from his chair and rushed to the nearby sink as quickly he could with the potatoes obscuring his vision. Elmo had to practically jump to the side to avoid him, leaning back against the counter with a slightly amused smirk on his face. Despite his current discomfort, he couldn't deny his amusement at his friend's juvenile antics.

Jack cackled in satisfaction at the fearful and hilariously unbecoming reaction, giggling as the horrified mallard washed the lumpy mass from his face. "Oooh you are SO gonna regret letting me find out about _that_ one Bushy," he said between snickers.

Reggie shuddered in response. How he wished that wasn't true.

The momentarily lightened atmosphere was quickly extinguished when a certain disgruntled singer lumbered groggily into the kitchen. Reggie could see the rodent beside him shudder slightly at the other's entrance, prompting the bassist's gaze over his shoulder to see what had caused the sudden unease in the room.

Negaduck's already irritated glare deepened as he regarded the group before him. "What?!" he growled, challenging the stares, "I need my fucking coffee." A string of displeased grumbles followed the menacing mallard as he made his way to the permanently filled coffee pot. "You!" he snapped at the servant, still fiddling with Jack's food, "Go get my fuckin' drugs."

Just the sound of the word made Elmo shake violently. Things only got worse when the timid employee returned with several prefilled hypodermics. Reggie could practically feel the miserable rat beside him tense at the sight of the needle. The shudders returned with a vengeance as the suffering guitarist turned to face the sink again. Despite the move, it was painfully obvious that his eyes were still fixed intently on the unsettling reminder of his past.

Elmo looked utterly ill as the mallard flicked the syringe and removed the air. His whole body lurched slightly at the sight, the soft retching sound he produced giving external display of his current discomfort. He put a trembling hand to his muzzle to quiet the noise, but it was already too late. Timid eyes focused on the red gaze now staring knowingly at him. The evil grin and soft grunting laughs made him slink back, shifting until he was behind his now glaring companion who had since come to stand beside him, staring pitifully past Jack's red and black hat.

"What's the matter Sparky? Jonesin' for a _fiiix_?" Negaduck growled amusedly.

The cruel laughs resumed when Elmo shuddered in response, shrinking further behind Jack as though the other man might shield him from his own desires.

"Just like old times, eh?" the singer continued, moving the needle to his arm as though to force its pointed tip into the vein residing just below his skin.

Elmo didn't wait to see the result, taking off at a run from the room and immediately prompting his protective companion into a fit of uncharacteristic rage.

"ASSHOLE!" Jack spat, voice filled with an abnormal amount of malice.

"Oh, unknot your fucking panties," Negaduck replied crossly, moving the needle from where it was pressed against his arm. "It's Tarodol," he continued wiggling the syringe as though to emphasize his point. "It's for my fucking migraines. It's like poppin' a thousand aspirin. He can shoot it up all he wants and he's not gonna get high." The singer leaned back against the chair as he finished, shoving the needle forcefully into his exposed thigh as he did so.

Reggie could see the depth of rage clearly on Jack's face as he stood before the singer— hands clenched and teeth grit in a furious scowl. He'd never seen the jester so angry. For the first time, he saw him beyond words. Jack wanted nothing more at that moment than to tear the singer apart and it was obvious.

"You got somethin' to say _Quack_?" Negaduck questioned deeply, spitting the last word out as though it were dirt upon his tongue.

Reggie did his best to make himself as inconspicuous as possible as he slid past the snarling rhythmist, slinking back to the table to avoid the altercation he suddenly feared would happen. He could practically see Jack chewing on his tongue to keep his outburst at bay. Bud didn't react when the shocked bassist slipped into the seat beside him. He didn't blame the other for wanting to distance himself from the middle of the two enraged mallards.

Jack continued to clench his fists as Negaduck stared him down, his stance only easing slightly when the other duck stood, advancing on his taller band mate. With a final furious growl, Jack turned and stormed after his friend. It was several long moments before Reggie finally pulled himself from the stupor that the scene produced. He took a moment to close the jaw he just realized was hanging open. He was starting to learn way more about his housemates than he was comfortable knowing.

He leaned subtly towards the drummer beside him, unable to deny the sudden need to inquire about the unsettling scene. "Is this… normal?"

Bud shrugged slightly at the question, still somewhat distracted by his own disconcerting feelings. "Oh, we go through this every few months or so. Sometimes it's longer, sometimes it's shorter. But every now and then Elmo goes through a relapse phase. Gets the shakes real bad, eats even less than he already does, sometimes he even stops hooking up to his battery. Negs torments him for a while, Mo gets depressed and Jack gets all riled up." Bud paused for a moment "Then of course _I_ get put on damage control so that Elmo doesn't get suicidal and Jack doesn't go on a rampage."

"Funny I woulda figured Negaduck wouldn't give a shit."

"Mm, normally no. But he'd never let Elmo die. He can't afford to. He needs Sparks too much… that kid is his meal ticket ya know."

Just as he said it Bud caught sight of Negaduck's glare. He quickly slipped away from the bassist, showing that he'd caught the message that he was talking too much. The subtle scene did not go unnoticed by Reggie. He cocked a confused brow at the silent obedience Bud exhibited.

_How __**does**__ he get you to be so cooperative? _ He thought curiously.

The obviously irritated singer continued to glare as the silence between the two stretched on.

Bud rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably under the stare. "Something tells me that is our cue to leave," he muttered to the bassist beside him.

"I _so_ could not agree more," Reggie replied quietly, following the drummer's lead out of the kitchen. "I have…" he trailed of regarding the small clumps of mashed potato still clinging to his floral hair as they made their way back to the upper level, "Never needed a shower so badly in my life," he finished, shuddering slightly.

The air was heavy between them as they made their way towards the rooms. Without the distraction of the other band members, it was becoming increasingly difficult for them to ignore their respective discomforts. Bud's liquid eyes finally shifted to the brooding bassist beside him, the gaze prompting Reggie to turn his head away from the stare.

Bud sighed in response. "Tell me you're not planning on doing anything stupid."

"Don't insult me," Reggie snarled softly in reply, pulling a cigarette roughly from his pack.

"Look, whatever's messing with your head right now just… just don't go anywhere Reggie. When he finds you, and he _will_… you know he's gonna hurt you." The look he gave Reggie was filled with regret. "And believe me, it won't be pleasant."

"Just STOP!"

The furious scowl Reggie sent him in reaction was not what Bud expected. He swallowed thickly at the continued glaring.

"Who the hell appointed YOU my personal guard dog anyway?!" the fuming mallard continued.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that Reggie was currently having a bit of an internal break down.

Before Bud could even offer an answer, the door to Reggie's room, which the flowing drummer hadn't even noticed had been placed between them, was slammed in his face. He blinked stupidly at the barrier, mouth agape and mind baffled.

_Why do you care so much?_

The thought prompted the sopping dog to pace back and forth down the dark hallway in a seemingly endless voyage to nowhere. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't seem to convince his body to venture very far from the bassist's room.

Why did he care so much?

Within the secluded confines of his room, Reggie leaned back against the now closed door, sighing heavily and letting his dying cigarette to fall to the ground uncaringly. He knew the water-dog wasn't really what was bothering him so much, but he had to admit he made a convenient victim for his current frustration. Plus there were other feelings the dripping mongrel elicited that he would prefer not to admit to and imposing his anger on the drummer made him feel at least a bit better.

He practically stormed to his bathroom, removing his black coat as he went. He couldn't help the shudder that ran through him at the loss of the fabric. He never could get over the exposed feeling that always plagued him without its presence.

Inside the lavished lavatory, Reggie regarded his newly acquired, and unnecessarily large, shower for the first time. Still quivering fingers slowly removed the bandages on his hands before he slipped into the glass-encased confines of the oversized bath. He sighed heavily as he twisted at the embellished, metal knob that would coax the faucet to life. The fuming mutant's sour mood was already falling into one of his more usual mentally stressed states and the thought of washing his burdens away was suddenly very appealing. He almost moaned at the water that resulted from the twisting. Reggie couldn't remember the last time he'd had a warm shower. For the first time since he had joined the ranks of the fearsome five, he let his guard drop. He held trembling fingers beneath the water, adjusting the temperature so that it was cool enough to not make his leafy-digits burn more. His eyelids slipped closed as he soaked in the reviving streams. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't convince himself that it was as good as a certain watery-canine's. A soft and half-hearted growl sounded at the thought. Reggie tried desperately to ignore the way his fingers seemed to quiver with the desire for more of the mongrel's contact. Little did he know that his thoughts mirrored those of the unknown presence that had been observing him.

Bud didn't know what exactly had prompted him to apologize to the bassist right at that moment, but he quickly regretted it. The one thing he noticed immediately was that Reggie hadn't bothered to close the glass door that would hide him from view. Bud couldn't tell if he wished he had or not. Either way he couldn't deny the immense enjoyment he got out of the unwitting show the other provided. The warm water was streaming down the bassist's smooth, green chest in a manner that was erotic to Bud in a way that would be difficult for him to explain to someone of a more solid persuasion. His whole body trembled at the way Reggie's damp mess of long hair framed his face, small rivers of water slipping down his closed eyes and slightly open beak. Bud shuddered at the sight. For the first time in his watery life he knew he'd be blushing if it wasn't for his liquid form. He put a startled hand to his cheek as though he could feel the pink tint that should have been there. It was warm. In fact, his entire body was warm, even bubbling ever so slightly. Watery locks swung frantically as Bud shook his head, slipping quickly from the room and away from the bathing bassist.

Luckily for him, his turmoil went unnoticed by the plant-duck still soaking in the soothing waters. Reggie was far too absorbed to notice the sparking, liquid figure retreating into the shadowy hallway. The unsettling feeling of entrapment had returned with a vengeance. Thin arms wrapped around his midsection as he resisted the urge to hyperventilate. He hadn't quite realized how hard he had been focusing to keep the anxiety attack at bay. Even the brief lapse in his concentration had been sufficient to elicit a panic. Shaking fingers gripped blindly at the faucet, halting the streaming water as he slipped from the large shower. Purple locks shook erratically as he paced around the oversized bathroom, injured fingers twining in the strands to pull at his hair.

"Four months trapped in this place… with _them_! Why did I think I could do this? There's no way I'm gonna make it that long!"

The random rant stopped as the mutant mallard tried to pull himself together. The harsh grip he'd had on his hair had made his fingers sting horribly once again and his mood was only worsening as the agonizing moments passed.

His thoughts turned to Bud as he remembered the warning to stay put. Blue eyes narrowed irately at the warmth the other seemed to bring to his cheeks; he couldn't stop the embarrassment that thoughts of the water-dog elicited. A furious growl sounded in response to the unwanted feelings, prompting the rebellious streak buried within him to show itself. He tipped his head over ruffling his leafy hands through his hair rapidly to remove the bulk of the water before grabbing his coat and hastily covering his still damp form in its comforting shroud.

He grabbed three fresh packs of cigarettes and stuffed them in his pockets as an afterthought as he made his way to the still-open balcony doors. A brief look over his shoulder was the only indication he gave of his uncertainty before slipping to the edge of the balcony.

"Sorry Bud," he muttered into the dark, "but I gotta get out of here."

It was a slow trip to the ground, the massive nature of the building combined with the discomfort of forcing his leafy limbs to extend making it a difficult task to scale. Sore fingers struggled to find places to hold as he made his way down the manor's side, slim arms trembling slightly at the exertion. As he made his way past the main levels, the once whispered sound of torment-ridden screams grew louder and louder. He tried to tell himself that he couldn't hear the cries.

Once his roots safely touched the ground, it was only mildly difficult for Reggie to make his way through the inky alleyways. His many years on the streets made it easy to navigate the darkened roads undetected despite the hundreds of fans still partying, the trip aided by his black coat and the many abandoned houses littering the city. It didn't take long for Reggie to slip past the city's twisted confines and into the dark edges of the polluted metropolis. He wasn't sure exactly where he planned to go, but only the distant badlands offered any semblance of safety, drawing him inexplicably into the darkened woods.

Back in the towering manor, Bud was still brooding over a certain unsettling, yet horribly sensual scene. He couldn't even think straight. He hardly even noticed when he reentered the kitchen, the quick nature of his trip making the journey almost too short for him to even comprehend. Bud sighed heavily, slipping into one of chairs by the heavy table and resting his chin forlornly on its surface. He sat that way for several moments before growling angrily and lifting his head.

"This is NOT anything special," he told himself, banging a watery fist against the surface in front of him. "This is just a sex thing. He's hardly the first bassist you've wanted to fuck. He's just like any of the others!"

But he wasn't.

Bud sighed again, putting his face in his hands and moaning pitifully for a moment. "What the _hell_ have you gotten yourself into Buddy?" he mumbled forlornly.

It was a few moments before he registered the feeling that he was being watched. He finally tilted his head, moving his hands off his face slightly to investigate. A rather dumbfounded Elmo met his gaze, standing in the doorway with a brow cocked at him.

"You uh… talkin' to yourself there Bud?" he finally questioned, a slight edge of amusement to his voice.

Bud blinked stupidly for a moment, straightening his form in the chair. After he got over the initial shock of being caught having a breakdown, he realized that he was actually quite lucky that it had been Elmo that walked in on him. It wouldn't be too hard to get out of it.

"Why the hell are you coming in here talking crazy Mo," he finally retorted.

"What?" Was the confused reply.

"What?"

"…Huh?!"

"That's what I thought."

"Are you trying to confuse me?"

"Depends… You remember what we were talking about?"

Elmo blinked at this, scratching under his chin as he thought hard. "You know… I don't even remember why the hell I came in here." The light bulb that suddenly went off in the fried mind was painted all over the rodent's face. "Bud!"

The drummer shook his head at the young band member. "Yes Mo?" he replied amusedly.

"Uh, I think the bassist is gone. Might wanna go get him before Negs finds out," he finished distractedly, pointing a gloved thumb over his shoulder.

"What?!" Bud yelled, his slight bemusement erased in an instant as he moved quickly from his chair, practically pinning a now terrified Elmo to the wall behind him. "Where?!"

"I don't know dude!" Elmo sputtered, a slightly horrified edge to his voice.

Bud moved even closer, pressing his hands on either side of the shaking rodent. "Well what the hell happened?!"

"Three foot rule!" Elmo squeaked at the increase in the already unsettling proximity.

"Screw your three foot rule! Tell me what you know!"

"Look I just saw him go out the window!"

"God damnit!" Bud snapped, slipping away from the terrified rodent without another thought—much to Elmo's relief.

The trip was quicker than usual, Bud's hope to catch the other before he left hastening his pace. He couldn't claim surprise when he found the room empty. The open balcony doors gave hint enough to where the missing bassist had gone. For a moment he considered just not going after him. He sighed heavily and wearily at the voice of reason that told him that it was never going to happen.

"Why do you put me through this shit Reggie?" he muttered.

Bud slipped his fluid form out the window without another thought; the fall was hardly capable of killing him. He had a hunch he knew where the unstable mallard was going. He only hoped that he could find him before a certain homicidal singer did.

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><p>Yay it's finally over! Wooo!<p>

Pooor Buddy, he's in lub 3

Ok so there's chapter 6. Again sorry things didn't really go anywhere in this one but it will get more interesting after the next chapter which should be coming soon!

Stay tuned for more metalness.

Ariaa AWAY! Woosh!


	7. Into the Night

Author's note: SO, finally finished chapter 7. Wooohoo! Bout time, this baby was supposed to be done so long ago. But to make up for my slowness you gets a nice long chapter. My longest to date in fact. Didn't expect it to be quite so excessive but there was a lot I wanted to include in this one so I guess it was inevitable. Hmm… not much else to say, my brain is a bit fried from slaving over a hot computer all day to bring you this one, sooo enjoy!

* * *

><p>The night air was bitter and unforgiving: a harsh contradiction to the humid day that had preceded it. Pale streams of moonlight slipped through the dense thicket of departed trees painting a peculiar configuration of scattered rays along the barely visible figure darting through the decaying foliage.<p>

The heavy breathing that accompanied Reggie through the frigid night gave external evidence of his aching chest. His feet were stained with mud and scratched from impacts with the mess of mangled roots twisting along the ground beneath him, but he still couldn't seem to convince his legs to stop running. He fell for the third time in the past few minutes. Unlike previous falters, this one left Reggie exhausted and panting on the cold ground, his body completely incapable of holding him up anymore. After a few long moments he finally raised his shaking frame, leaning against a nearby tree for support as he lit one of his cigarettes.

"How do I get myself into this shit?" he questioned into the darkness.

Only the wind answered.

The pace of his heart gradually slowed as the minutes passed, the opaque smoke from his cigarette mixing with his visible breath as it diffused through the frigid air. Even after the smoldering tobacco was long gone, Reggie sat quietly in the dim forest trying desperately to regain some of his strength. He was so absorbed in trying to stop the trembles running through his thin frame that he barely even noticed the distant sounds coming from the depths of the forest before him, but the strangeness of the collective noise was enough to put him on guard.

The moon above was shrouded in inky darkness, the clouds that surrounded it obscuring all but the most determined of its shining rays. The faint light barely lent the ability to see anything at all, but the noise sparked an undeniable curiosity in the shivering mallard that made him strain to see through the murky woods. The soft sounds grew clearer making it obvious that it was getting closer—whatever _it_ was.

Despite the darkness, Reggie could soon see a faint shadow creeping languidly nearer to him. The movement quickly morphed his curiosity into terror. He backed frantically away only to have his path blocked by another of the many tall, lifeless trees. The clouds covering the moon's light finally gave way to allow the soft rays to illuminate the dead forest. Reggie couldn't help the gasp that escaped his bill at the sight before him. As unbelievable as it seemed, a small sapling had apparently uprooted itself and was now walking slowly closer, green and newly growing branches reaching out for him. The soft trembles continued to course through Reggie's body, but despite the oddness of the situation, he was not really afraid of the small shrub. There was a certain kindness in its demeanor: a desperate longing for loving contact and yet a show of comfort for his own pain at the same time. The quivering bassist wasn't sure what made him do it, but he soon found himself reaching out towards the living plant with timid fingers, his back still pressed against the coarse trunk behind him.

As the small, leafy being came closer, Reggie started to notice a massive stirring of life all around him: a surge of gneiss in the long dead landscape that was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He could feel the revival and hear the sounds of their stirring. Blue eyes widened at the faint whispers suddenly sounding in his head. His apprehension returned with a vengeance causing him to drop his outstretched arm and back uncouthly away from the foliage in front of him. The desperate words resonating within his mind grew stronger and clearer at his fear. Reggie pressed his hands against his ears in a vain attempt to block out the sounds.

"Get out of my head!" he yelled miserably into the darkness, shaking his petal-adorned skull in a useless effort to remove the voices.

He forced his exhausted legs to carry him at a run further into the woods, but no matter how hard he tried the jumbled calls of a hundred new lives were proving impossible to escape. Reggie ran until his feet could no longer carry him, collapsing at the edge of a very familiar clearing. His chest quivered with every painful breath, small drops of sweat falling from his brow as he gasped for air. When he finally looked up to the structure in front of him, he had to laugh slightly at the place he had decided to stop.

_I would end up here_. He scoffed internally.

The decrepit greenhouse almost seemed to murmur his name, adding to the tangled mess of noise already in his head. Unsteady legs carried him slowly through the broken glass, taking him back into the dim room where his new life had been forged. He slipped slowly into the comforting space, walking carefully to keep from falling over as he attempted to navigate the darkness. Among the many shadowy shapes in the long abandoned hothouse, Reggie could just make out the departed vegetation that surrounded him. The dry plants somehow added a level of comfort to the dark room that he hadn't felt during his first visit. Near the back of the glass-encased sanctuary, Reggie found a secluded little corner shielded by a circle of dried out flora. He curled up in the dirt, wrapping his arms around himself and pulling his knees to his chest as he tried to disappear into his coat. It took only a few moments for Reggie to slip into a brief, uneasy sleep, the lapse in consciousness keeping him from noticing the flurry of movement around him as he drifted off.

In a distant corner of the same woods, an aqueous figure slipped fluidly through the trees.

The rate at which Bud swept through the forest made it all but impossible for him to register the recent regrowth in the surrounding plants, or detect the way they fed off his water as he sped by. Even with his speed the trip took a while, the vast expanse of trees adding to his journey. He didn't like how much time he had to think as he traveled; the thoughts were unsettling. Before long he could see a light through the thinning trees. He slowed as he reached the clearing that housed his destination, stopping to stare only briefly at the now lit building. Reggie had obviously found his way back to the light box since he had been there. Bud couldn't help growling slightly as he reached the tall doors. Thanks to this little stunt they were both probably going to be in for a very shitty night. The dripping dog was suddenly extremely annoyed at his increasingly high-maintenance companion.

"God damnit Reggie!" Bud barked as he sloshed his way into the greenhouse, "Didn't I tell you to.. stay in the…" he trailed off as he fully absorbed his surroundings.

All around him an explosion of life and color was sprouting up through the dried out husks. Bud didn't even notice his jaw drop at the sight, his previous anger lost in the awe of the moment as he processed the vibrant vision. It had been a long time since he'd seen anything like it. He scanned the building, eyes finally falling on an out-of-place addition to the foliage. It took a moment for him to even assure himself that it was actually Reggie: the lack of his ever-present black coat making him far less conspicuous among the newly growing flora. Bud couldn't stop himself from taking in the other's bare form, his eyes captivated by the delicate and unique curve to his spine as they slipped down the slender form to land on the tail leaves that were now visible. It was the first time he'd really been able to appreciate the arboreal appendage.

A familiar heat returned to his body.

It wasn't long before Reggie started slipping his slightly tattered trench coat back on, obviously bothered by the other man's stare. Bud swallowed thickly at the reaction, flowing carefully closer to the hunched mallard.

"Did you… do this?" he questioned, the disbelief evident in his voice as he gestured to the newly revived vegetation.

"Did you _see_ any plants in here last time, Bud?" Reggie questioned, sending a halfhearted glare over his shoulder.

"Well, … no.."

"Then I think it's pretty safe to say that they have _something_ to do with me."

"Yeah, I suppose so."

Bud could see the other begin to shift uneasily under his gaze as the silence stretched on, Reggie finally moving from his secluded position to avoid the feeling of discomfort growing within him. His liquid cohort watched as the fidgety plant-duck moved around the greenhouse, fiddling with the various florae to avoid the drummer's stare. Bud followed, slipping his fingers along the foliage as he went. Reggie was mesmerized at the way the plants grew at the touch, a collective mass of happy chatter sounding in his head. It seemed he wasn't the only autotroph around that liked Bud's particular brand of water. He still couldn't make out one voice over another. It was like being in a crowded room and not being able to filter one conversation from those engulfing it, but despite the slight headache it gave him, the relief and pleasure of his fellow plants filled him with a warmth that was difficult to deny and the closest to real happiness that he had felt in years. Reggie shuddered fleetingly at the sensation. He suddenly wanted to just stay there forever and hide from Negaduck's wrath.

Bud could see it written all over his face. He wasn't sure how long he just let Reggie walk about the greenhouse, running his fingers along the plants, but he couldn't seem to quite bring himself to make the other leave. Eventually the lights began to flicker, coaxing Reggie's blue eyes upward. It didn't take long for them to give one more valiant surge before they died. The sight of his band mate suddenly bathed in the pale moonlight was enough to send a wave of heat through Bud once again. He wished he could let Reggie stay forever.

"We need to get back," he said gently, trying not to elicit a rebellion.

"No."

Bud sighed at the blunt reply. "Look Reggie, this isn't a choice. If I have to drag you back kicking and screaming I will." His tone made it obvious that he was not joking.

"You just don't fucking get it do you?!" Reggie snapped at the drummer, his narrowed gaze and exposed teeth attesting to the current volatility of his mood. "I can't…" He trailed off, expression suddenly falling into a deeper form of contemplation.

He sighed heavily before continuing, the exhaustion taking over his demeanor once again.

"Look, I just can't go back yet… please."

The whispered plea at the end of the statement was hardly audible and yet it broke Bud's heart. It was starting to become clear that Reggie was terrified of feeling trapped. Trapped with them until… well, he was sure the bassist didn't know what. He groaned in frustration, knowing that he was going to give in. And that he was going to regret it later. He wasn't sure what Negaduck was going to do when he found out, but the sight of the hunched and shivering mallard was simply too much for him to resist.

"Okay. We won't go back just yet. But if Negs inflicts a world of pain on your ass when we _do_ get back don't say I didn't warn you."

Reggie huffed noncommittally in response.

Bud chuckled softly at the pouting expression the other produced. "Well let's get back to the city at least. No way I'm leaving you way the hell out here."

Reggie didn't argue. He just made his way towards one of the many gaps in the building's glass walls, bending and disappearing quickly through the opening. Bud took a deep breath to compose himself before following, slipping easily after his floral companion. Outside, Reggie was occupied with satisfying his ever-present vice, shifting through his coat and finally taking out a smoke to light it. Bud cocked an eye at this. He hadn't realized it, but the time they had spent in the greenhouse was probably the longest he'd ever seen the mallard go without a cigarette to calm his shaking. Something told him Reggie hadn't had _any_ since he'd been in there. The thought made him tip his head quizzically at the smoking mallard. Reggie angled his gaze to meet the curious look being sent his way. For some reason it wasn't too hard to figure out what question was going through Bud's head. He took a long hit from his cigarette, letting the thick fumes slip from his beak before answering the unspoken question.

"Just seemed rude to smoke in front of them."

It took a moment for the statement to really sink in, but when it did Bud couldn't help but laugh. As usual it only served to irritate Reggie. He chuckled gently at the look his band mate was giving him.

"Didn't want to smoke plant corpses in front of your fellow flora, eh?" he couldn't help the final round of bubbling chortles that resulted from the idea. "Yeah, that makes sense I suppose."

As hard as he was trying to keep himself under control, Bud was having a tough time forcing the stupid, amused grin off his face. The smirk only grew when Reggie snorted slightly, mouth twitching in a brief amused smile.

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead and laugh. I'm used to it."

Bud chuckled slightly at this, twisting around the other so that he was standing in front of him. "Well, shall we Reginald?" he said, motioning for the other to follow him back into the forest.

"Sure. Once I convince myself that it'll be worth walking all the way back just to get my ass kicked," Reggie muttered grumpily.

Bud thought this over for a moment before replying. "Get on my back."

"What?" Reggie questioned with a raised brow.

"Yeah. Shit, it's not hard for me at all. Just hop on and we'll be outta here in no time."

"You're… kidding right?"

Bud rolled his eyes at the other's hesitation. "Look this will go _way_ faster without you tripping over your roots for an hour."

Reggie eyed him suspiciously for a moment before finally giving in and moving around to the dripping dog's back. He hesitated a moment before jumping awkwardly onto the watery form. It was strange to try and hold on and yet he wasn't slipping. He held his arms stubbornly away from Bud's body, the fluid grip around his legs and lower half allowing him to hold his precious cancer tube safely out of the way.

"Fine. But don't put out my smoke water boy."

Bud chuckled quietly at the order. "Heh, smoke if you can, but ya _miight_ wanna hold on," he replied.

Before Reggie even had time to question him, the watery mongrel took off at top speed through the forest. Bud couldn't help snickering softly at the squeak let out by the startled bird, his heart skipping a beat when the mutant mallard threw his arms around him, clinging desperately to his neck to keep from falling. His cigarette was long forgotten. Reggie cringed as he realized the position he'd just put himself in. His gaze was a mix between embarrassed and irritated when it met Bud's smugly narrowed eyes.

"DON'T say a word Bud," he muttered.

Bud didn't say anything, but he just had to snicker at the look on Reggie's face.

His cranky passenger quickly shifted so that his hands were on the other's shoulders rather than clinging pathetically to his neck. Although he was disappointed at the change, Bud smiled anyway. It didn't take long for him to be graced with more close contact. Reggie yelped in fear once again as they swerved near a tree, cringing close to the flowing drummer's back in case he hit it. The watery dog beneath him laughed softly to himself but still didn't speak. Once Reggie calmed down enough to realize how well Bud weaved his way through the trees, he found he rather enjoyed the experience of swerving around the mangled trunks. The breeze blew back his petals in a pleasant way that he couldn't help but appreciate; it was a refreshing change from the warm air that had been assaulting him all day. He soon settled back to watch as the dead landscape passed by.

For once the silence that settled between them was somewhat comfortable.

Reggie's wandering gaze eventually landed on the stirring surface of Bud's form. The quick pace was causing a turbulent wave to run throughout the drummer's entire body. It was an excessive surge and yet it was somehow gentle. Reggie felt a sudden urge to feel it, his timid fingers stroking gently and fleetingly along the churning surface. The effort to remain unnoticed was in vain. Just the touch of the leafy skin sent a pulse of sensation through Bud that he had previously thought was impossible with his mutated form. It had been so long since he had felt such vast sensation. _If_ he ever had. The obvious stroking soon turned to a light curling of fingers against Bud's water. He wasn't sure if the other man was even aware of the action anymore, but he didn't risk ending the contact by saying anything.

Reggie had to admit the journey was much shorter and easier with Bud offering the aid of his aqueous assistance. The night air made the slim bird shiver, but it was at least a bit cleaner out there; it was a nice change to be free of the smog for a while, but he could smell it getting closer. His liquid taxi finally slowed, Bud setting him down on his roots as they reached the edge of the metropolis. The drummer didn't say a word he just motioned for the other to be silent as he inspected the dark streets. There really would be hell to pay if he let Reggie be seen before the concert. After a quick search for any nearby fans, Bud once again motioned to him signaling for the leafy bassist to follow. Reggie didn't ask where they were going; he just trailed the other mutant silently through the darkened city. Bud knew his way around the vast metropolis far better than he did that was for sure, and he didn't care where they ended up as long as it wasn't back at the manor. Although, he couldn't say he was totally pleased when he saw where they _did_ end up.

The Old Haunt was just as Reggie had remembered: hardly visible among the other buildings surrounding it, almost hiding amid the indistinctive line of walls. Despite his slight reluctance to enter the bar again, he had to admit he was relieved that the part of town they had slipped to lacked the many partying fans. Negaduck didn't like them in _his _private part of town.

The slightly dingy door creaked softly as it was opened, a telltale signal to those inside that someone had entered their space. Reggie let out a relieved breath when he saw the lack of patrons. Only the regulars really hug around very often unless there was news that the band would be there. There were certainly better places to go, the Fearsome Five just happened to prefer the small and inconspicuous bar to the many other venues the city had to offer. Reggie and Bud had not exactly announced that they would be stopping by, but the delight that the surprise visit produced was expressed very clearly by the small crowd nonetheless. One voice in particular rose above the rest, capturing the attention of the two mutants very quickly.

"Bud old boy!" Benny called, already standing to greet them. "Now we got ourselves a party!" he continued excitedly, throwing an arm around Bud's sopping neck and pulling him down to match his slightly shorter stature.

Reggie paid them little mind. His attention was drawn almost immediately from the two chatting canines, captivated by something far more interesting to the glum mallard than whatever they were saying. Silken white smoke rose through the beam of light cast upon the table where she sat, painting random patterns as it twirled through the misty sliver of illumination. Reggie's eyes stayed glued on the slim cigarette in her hands as it was brought to her bill finally leading his eyes to the lovely bird's face. A gorgeous smile met his gaze as Darla waved briefly to him with her free hand. Reggie couldn't really explain why, but he was strangely happy to see her.

An uncommonly sincere attempt to smile back overtook him. Despite the fact that he was genuinely trying, the seldom used muscles resisted compliance, producing little more than a twitch and a lopsided half grin that looked more absurd than truly pleased. Darla's smile grew at the attempt nonetheless.

Reggie's face fell when he finally noticed the other resident of the small table. The glare Jake was giving him could not quite be labeled as malevolent, but it was unsettling anyway. Of all the people that were there, the strange mallard was probably the last one he would have wanted to see. Not that he was surprised to see him. Reggie shifted his eyes away quickly, the blue orbs landing once again on Bud and his drunken friend who he was currently leading to the table where the others sat. Benny chuckled uncontrollably in his inebriation, throwing an arm around Darla and muttering something in her ear that made her laugh amusedly.

Bud shook his head, chuckling slightly as he turned away from the bar's three most regular, and well-respected, customers. Although somewhat surprised, Reggie was relieved when Bud began to guide him away from them. They were too distracted to even really notice the two mutants leave. It was quickly apparent where Bud was leading him. The rest of the space between the entrance and the bar in the back was notably devoid of people, but in a distant corner near their destination there was one group that caught Reggie's eye immediately. Or rather, one person that did.

Sapphire.

Every woman in the small group that she sat with paled in comparison to her beauty. Reggie hardly even noticed the others. His heart skipped a beat when gorgeous eyes slipped sensually up to meet his. Bud could hear the timid gulp he produced in response, and he couldn't help but frown at the telltale sound. As they neared the table he knew they would have to stop and say something, but he suddenly wished very badly that Reggie would take his eyes off the beauty. He forced a smile onto his face anyway.

"Why hello there Sapphire, darling," he said smoothly, his grin charming as ever when directed at the opposite sex.

"Hello Buddy dear, always a pleasure," Sapphire paused to let the drummer sweep her hand up and kiss it. "And so wonderful to see you again _Reggie_," she purred, batting her eyes at the quivering mallard. "These are my friends. Say hello girls."

The four women that accompanied her said their greetings in unison, obviously trying very hard to sound as pleasing as possible. Reggie didn't quite know what to say.

"…Hi," he finally muttered.

The girls broke out in giggles at the uncomfortable reply. Reggie's narrowed gaze couldn't hide the effect of his deep green blush. He fumed internally when the dark tint in his cheeks elicited a second round of chortling from the annoying females.

"Oh, come on now girlies, be nice to Reggie. He's new to all this shit you know," Bud interjected in an attempt to rescue the nervous mallard.

"Oooo,_ how_ new?" a redhead questioned flirtatiously, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

Bud laughed at the display. "Oh Ginger, you naughty thing you," he said, waggling a finger at her, "Sorry to say you won't find out. Reggie's had a bit of a shitty night and only much alcohol can cure him, _so_ farewell my darlings!" he finished throwing an arm around Reggie's shoulder to guide him away from the estrogen-laden group.

The laughs resumed yet again as the two made their way to the bar. Reggie couldn't help but look over his shoulder at the captivating bird that had caught his attention in the first place. Somehow it made him feel better to see that she had not joined in the mindless giggles of her friends, but the look she was giving him brought heat to his cheeks in an entirely different way. He forced his attention to the bar in front of them to keep his thoughts from the deep blue eyes and curvy figure. His mind was still very much preoccupied by her as they settled at the bar, but there was something about the familiar space that was somehow comforting. Reggie wasn't even paying attention to the drummer as he set about procuring what he deemed the proper alcoholic beverages to treat their stress. Apparently no one was interested in having a bar tender around that night; it was hardly an uncommon practice. Not that Bud really needed one anyway. He returned quite quickly from his selection process, setting several bottles of different alcohol down before sliding over the bar and retaking his seat. He opened one easily, taking a long drink before returning his attention to the bassist beside him.

Reggie had grabbed one of the bottles and was now inspecting the clear intoxicant inside. Bud's eyes slipped to the leafy fingers entwined around the container; it was the first time he noted the un-bandaged digits since they had been out there. They were encrusted with dried blood and trembling in pain ever so slightly. For a moment he considered offering to help them feel better again, but in the back of his mind he knew Reggie would never accept. He settled for staring into tantalizing blue eyes.

Reggie met the gaze with a questioning look. "What?"

"Why did you leave tonight?" Bud asked—although he was pretty sure he knew why.

He received only a brief shrug in reply.

Bud was silent for a moment before continuing. "Well I hope you enjoyed your little stay in the greenhouse because you won't be seeing your plant friends again anytime soon I can assure you that."

"I wasn't out there for that… and they're not my friends! That's just fuckin' stupid."

"Oh? Then why were you out there in the middle of the night trying to make them grow?"

"I didn't! Well… not intentionally or anything. They just-" Reggie cut himself off. "Wait, what the hell does that matter?! It has nothing to do with why I was out there anyway."

"Why were you out there then?"

"Why are _you_ so damn interested in talking about me all the sudden?" Reggie questioned, growing suspicious at the prying.

Bud thought about his response for a moment, filling one of the glasses he had grabbed as he contemplated. "Well, friends usually know _something_ about each other, don't they?" he finally answered, lifting his gaze from the alcohol in front of him in favor of watching the other's reaction.

Reggie refused to meet his eyes. "Who says we're friends?"

"Aren't we?"

"No."

Bud snorted slightly at this. "Coulda fooled me."

"I'm not interested in talking about myself."

"Welll, why don't we make a game out of it?"

"Game? What kinda game," Reggie questioned, brow rising at the suggestion.

Bud produced a sly smile in response. "The drinking kind of course."

"Do I look like the sort who plays _drinking_ games?"

"Come on, don't be a downer Reg. It'll be fun!"

Reggie groaned. "How exactly would this game go?"

"Well, I suppose we take turns asking questions and if you refuse to answer you take a shot. Simple enough right?"

"Simple for you! _You_ like to drink."

Bud rolled his eyes. "Well fine then, if you _reeeally_ don't want to…"

Reggie sighed heavily at the melodramatic tone. He really didn't like how easily Bud managed to talk him into things.

"Fiiiiiine, you go first then," he answered begrudgingly, pouring some of the liquor into his own shot glass.

Bud grinned elatedly at his small triumph as he watched the vessel fill. "Okay. Why do you hate the idea of me being your friend so much?"

Reggie swallowed thickly at the inquiry. He was starting to regret giving in already.

"… who says I hate it?"

"Let's just say it's obvious."

"Well, you're so weird about it! How the hell am I supposed to feel?" Reggie snapped.

"_I'm _the weird one? Would you prefer the company of your _other_ housemates? Besides, I think you find me fun," Bud retorted crossing his arms smugly over his chest, a stupid grin plastering on his face as a thought hit him.

He leaned in close to Reggie, still smirking.

"Come on Reggie," he said, grin growing toothier, "Lemme be your buddy."

Reggie rolled his eyes at the ridiculous expression and stupid pun. "I try to make it a point to not be _buddies_ with my coworkers."

"_Coworker?_" Bud chuckled at the choice of words. "Well, it sounds like an excuse to me," he finished, choosing not to comment on the odd title.

The glum bassist swirled the liquor in his glass as he considered his answer. "Friends are nothing but trouble," he paused to stare at the spinning amber fluid, gaze distant. "If you let yourself care about someone you're just setting yourself up to get hurt… it's not worth the suffering."

Bud frowned at this. He hadn't quite expected that response. "Do you really believe that?"

Reggie didn't answer, but the look on his face portrayed the depth of hurt that the idea elicited despite his silence.

"Reggie…"

"Look, I answered your question. So, it's my turn now right?"

Bud sighed. "Take it away Reg."

"What's Negaduck talk to you about when you're alone?"

"…You know I can't answer that."

"Why?" Reggie questioned simply, eyes narrowed at the drummer.

"Negaduck's a totally insane, homicidal maniac isn't a good enough reason?!"

"So? What do you have to fear?" Reggie retorted, still determined to elicit a proper response from the other.

"Sorry Reg. That's question two," Bud replied, taking his shot. "It's _my_ turn now."

Reggie fumed slightly at the answer, suddenly feeling the need to get the better of the dripping mongrel. "Fine. Bring it on water boy."

Bud couldn't help but grin at the reply.

The next couple rounds passed much as the first. Bud trying his best to figure out things that he could get the duck to answer and Reggie asking questions he _knew_ the other wouldn't answer. It was almost as if he was just informing Bud that he did know. Although Reggie seemed pretty willing to answer most of what he was asked, anything he deemed even remotely personal he refused stringently, and it was becoming increasingly annoying to Bud.

"Oh, come _on_, that one wasn't even that bad!" he half whined at the other mutant's most recent refusal.

"Hey, I'm allowed to not answer if I want," Reggie muttered, shuddering slightly at the burn of the shot he had just taken.

"Yeah, well you could at least trust me a _little_," Bud replied dejectedly.

The more the game stretched on the more his normally hidden depressive side was being dredged up by his inebriation, and it was becoming extremely aggravating to Reggie. He clenched his teeth in annoyance at the increasingly pathetic display.

"Well you expect me to tell you all this shit and you've refused more questions than me! How the hell am I supposed to trust you?!"

"That's because you keep asking questions about Negaduck! Ask something else and I would answer," Bud responded with a huff, crossing his dripping arms over his chest.

"Oh, yeah?" Reggie challenged, "So what's with the collar then, huh?"

The question sent a chill through Bud's body. "What do you mean?" he questioned, hoping desperately that he had kept the bulk of his nervousness for the subject hidden.

"You're always pulling at it. If you hate the damn thing so much why don't you just take it off?"

"… ask a different question."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Reggie replied fumingly, blowing at his bangs with a displeased puff.

Bud narrowed his eyes at the comment. So Reggie wanted to play that way.

"Well, what's with the coat then, _huh_?" he asked, extending his watery torso so that he could bring his dripping muzzle close to the aggravated mallard.

Silence met the inquiry.

"Exactly. Ask a different question."

"Fine," Reggie replied, drumming his fingers against the bar as he thought over his answer. "What's your family like?" he finally asked, "You never really told me much about your life before all this."

"Oh yeah, that's a good one," Bud chuckled, "In a word: boring. Lame, uninspired, _paaaainfully_ normal… heh, guess they never really did _get_ me. Idolized my older brother though. Tch, asshole. He's a freaking dentist that brags about being a doctor. Yeah, I'm _real_ fuckin' impressed. Buddy is gonna drink himself to death? Oh, well who cares?! _Brendon_ learned to scrape teeth with a metal stick!"

Bud crossed his arms over his chest as he finished, seemingly oblivious to the other's presence for a moment as he seethed at the memories. After a second of internal fuming, he finally realized that they were just sitting in silence. He turned a sheepish gaze to Reggie, tugging nervously at his collar in his discomfort. It was suddenly obvious that he had expressed more of his own problems than he had intended.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Heh, wow enough of my issues I guess… So what about you?"

Reggie stiffened at the question. "What?"

"What was your family like?" Bud reiterated, "Something must have made you want to leave."

"They were assholes, what else is there to say?"

The attempt to avoid a real answer was obvious.

"Aw, come on Reg," Bud pouted, "I told you mine."

Reggie sighed, pausing before he responded as he tried to decide if it was really worth telling him just to keep the moping at bay. "It was just my… _father…_ and me."

The bitter nature of the word father combined with the furious scowl Reggie produced at the thought told Bud all he really needed to know. He tipped his head at the answer, his own gloomy mood forgotten as he started to realize that he had just struck a very tender nerve.

"Real loving and nurturing type, huh?" he questioned gently, the fact that he wasn't serious very apparent.

"Well, sure. If by loving you mean heartless and nurturing you mean abusive, overbearing asshole!"

Reggie's entire body went ridged when he realized exactly what he had just said. He turned his head away from the watery stare he knew Bud was sending his way.

"I never was good enough for him."

Bud regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before responding. "Yeah… I was never good enough for my family either. I suppose we have more in common than you thought."

"… I guess... So what did you do about it?"

"Same thing you did. I left."

There was no reply; Reggie was far too lost in his own mind.

Bud attempted to lighten the mood. "Okay, okay," he said with a chuckle, "I got a good one. What's with the potato thing?"

Although the memories made the bassist shiver, he couldn't help the few short chuckles that escaped him at the question. "Shoulda guessed that one would come up eventually," he muttered, resting his chin on one of his palms.

He considered just taking the drink instead of answering but his already hazy vision told him to just suck it up.

"Alright, alright. Well, let's see here… I suppose it all started when I decided I was gonna spend some time in the country for a while. FIRST big mistake right there. Totally weird shit tends to happen to me in the country. So anyway, I end up on this potato farm, figure I'll just work there till I can be on my way again and it'll all be good."

He paused, lighting a cigarette before bringing his attention back to Bud.

"Second mistake. Ended up stuck there for almost a whole _year_. Then, insane farmer dad decides that he's gonna shotgun marry me to his freaky daughter! Turns out _she's_ some crazy, potato-sucking, vampire bitch with the hots for me… I'm not sure if it's possible to be raped by a potato but either way I can't even see the damn things without freaking out anymore." He paused for a moment obviously lost in his thoughts. "Posey." He finally muttered, shuddering as the name passed his bill.

Bud was dumbstruck. Of all the possible weird explanations he might have expected for Reggie's odd phobia, crazy, hick, potato-vampire girl was not one of them. He couldn't stop himself from breaking out in laughs.

"You're telling me that you're afraid of potatoes because," the laughter resumed, "because -" He couldn't even finish his thought without the gurgling chortles interrupting him.

"Hey! I was traumatized!" Reggie snapped in response, obviously not pleased with the amount of amusement the other mutant got out of it.

"Oh, I can only _imagine._"

"Potatoes for every meal for nearly a year." Reggie shuddered at the memory. "Mashed, whipped, baked,_ twice_ baked, fried.. raw! Pickled! _Guhhh,_ it was awful."

Bud chuckled softly in response, doing his best to keep himself under control. Something told him another round of laughs would just anger Reggie.

"Well, I suppose it's your turn," he replied once he was sure he could speak without sniggering obnoxiously.

Nearby the group of giddy girls in the corner erupted in a round of laughter. Reggie cocked a brow at them, the amused noises sparking an idea in his head.

"Hmm, well there's a question for ya Buddy. How does a mutant like yourself get such a… reputation?" Reggie asked, "You know, with them," he finished gesturing to the girls still giggling softly in the corner. "I mean, how exactly do you… well," he rubbed at the back of his head searching for the words, "If you're made outta water and all…"

It seemed Reggie was starting to regret his question. As much as Bud was enjoying watching him stumble uncomfortably over the concept, he finally decided to put the awkward mallard out of his misery.

"Specialize so thoroughly in the erotic needs of the fairer sex?" he offered with a smirk.

Reggie took a drink just to keep from answering but the cocked brow he sent Bud's way was more than enough of an answer. Bud chuckled wetly at the discomfort Reggie displayed for the subject.

"Heh, _that_ is a pretty awesome trick actually," he replied, leaning forward to grab the glass of water that had been sitting in front of them.

He held the clear vessel in the light tipping it side to side as if to show the other that there was nothing out of the ordinary about it. The normality didn't last long. As he dipped his finger into the water, a strange swirl of contradictory color and texture invaded the normally clear liquid. Within moments every drop of water in the glass had been hardened into a yellow-stained, malleable rubber.

Reggie was stunned. The look of shock was enough to set Bud off into another round of bubbling laughs. The still flabbergasted mallard reached out his hand in disbelief so that the other could shake the wiggling mass of solidified water into his leafy fingers. Reggie squeezed the squishy cylinder a few times, the hard water jiggling in response. A strange look formed on the bassist's face at the sight. At first, Bud wasn't quite sure what the expression was trying to portray, but after a few moments it was quite obvious. Reggie's shoulders began to shake with the effort of holding back the display, but his lowered inhibitions finally got the better of him as he started to snicker in genuine amusement.

The laugh was in a word: ridiculous. It was an odd marriage between a snort and a snigger, an obvious testament to the lack of use the sound suffered. It was a voice unaccustomed to laughter and it showed. To Bud, it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, but it wasn't what truly captivated him. The uninhibited smile that had slipped across Reggie's face was the most genuine display of emotion Bud had yet seen from him. He couldn't help the enamored grin that spread across his watery features as he watched the other laugh. He was completely lost in the moment. Smiles were gorgeous on Reggie.

"That is one hell of a laugh Reggie," he said softly.

His growing intoxication kept him from even really noticing his own wordslet alone holding them back, but the reaction Reggie produced immediately made him regret the comment. The statement quickly wiped the grin off the other's bill, silencing the amusement as quickly as it had started. Reggie looked almost terrified. He put a hand to his beak as though to prevent the appendage from letting forth more of the absurd noise. The silence stretched into uncomfortable territory as Reggie resisted meeting the fluid gaze. Bud hated himself for ruining the moment, but the abrasive noise that suddenly filled the bar informed him that it would have ended soon anyway.

The entrance was unexpected but hardly inconspicuous. The loud bang produced as the door hit the wall paled in comparison to the boisterous voice that accompanied it.

"Jacky is HERE bitches!" the obnoxious mallard called into the mostly empty bar.

Behind him, his ever-present companion was just barely visible, trudging slowly after Jack as the flamboyant bird made his way into the dimly-lit space. It took only a cursory inspection of their surroundings for Jack to seek out his slightly drunken band mates.

"Well, well, well. Fancy meeting YOU ladies here," he said, making his way over to them with his fellow guitarist close behind.

"What are you two doing here?" Bud questioned as Elmo grabbed a glass from behind the counter before plopping himself into one of the empty bar stools.

"Well, I could ask you the same thing wet stuff," Jack replied, leaning against the bar beside Bud. "We were bored so Mo put his moves on the elevator so we could come see what you naughty boys were up to. Way to party without us. You're gonna make Sparky and me think you don't love us anymore," he finished, batting his pathetically enlarged eyes at them.

"We are not _partying_," Reggie replied matter-of-factly, "_I'm_ depressive drinking."

"Well, that sounds about my speed right now. I'm super depressed," Elmo muttered, leaning his chin on the bar top so he could stare eye level at his glass as he filled it.

A quick tip of the head and the clear vessel was empty once again. Elmo was already refilling it when he finally turned his attention to the mallard beside him. His eyes widened as though he had just noticed that the slightly scuffed mutant was even there.

"Woah! Reg… what the hell happened to you?"

"The woods," Reggie grumbled in reply.

"What about wood?" Elmo questioned, scratching at his bad ear as though it would help him hear the soft response better.

Jack cackled at his friends genuinely confused, but borderline naughty comment. "_Yeeah,_ if you're gonna mutter around Mo ya might wanna do it in his good ear Reggie," he pointed out, flicking at the rodent's mostly deaf appendage playfully.

"What are you gonna do to my ear?!"

Jack's laughing resumed.

"Nothing," Reggie answered, making a point to be sure his voice was audible enough.

"Hmmm…" Elmo's gaze drifted as his attention already began to wane, falling slowly down Reggie's form. He tipped his head at what he saw. "Your coat is torn by the way," he muttered, pointing a finger at one of the more substantial holes.

Reggie glanced down yelping slightly in horror when he noticed the tears that the rodent had referred to. He pulled the garment off, urgently investigating a split seam; the rip made his heart skip a beat. He was normally not so thoughtless when it came to the care of his beloved coat.

"Gaaaahh! No way, no fucking way! Why _meeee_," he moaned pitifully.

"Oh _lord_, take it down a notch drama queen. I can fix that easy peasy," Jack said with a flip of his wrist.

Reggie held the garment protectively to his chest as the jester reached out for it.

Jack rolled his eyes theatrically at the action. "Geez Reggie, I'm not gonna _hurt_ it. You'll get your precious coat back."

Reggie didn't look very reassured by the statement, but he relinquished the trench coat nonetheless, panicking slightly when he felt the fabric slip through his fingers. He bit his bottom bill nervously as he entrusted the precious item to the clown, watching anxiously as Jack pulled a selection of thread from the depths of his pockets. After grabbing the black, he reached to the end of his hat, lifting one of the spiked balls up so that he could pull a sewing needle from the junction between the fabric and the cool metal at the end. A swift move of his hands and the dark thread was pulled through the needle, Jack already setting about fixing the rips.

Reggie occupied himself by whipping the dirt from his scratched and still sore feet, trying desperately to keep himself distracted so as not to keep flicking his eyes to the coat and the mallard handling it. It was the first time he had really noticed how strange having toes felt. His normally webbed feet had not provided such sensation. Struck with the need to explore the woody appendages, he slipped his fingers between them, ignoring the slight pain it produced as he wigged the bark-covered toes slightly against his injured leaves. He was suddenly irritated that both feet were not symmetrical. As hard as he tried, Reggie couldn't keep his attention off his coat for long. He watched the preoccupied mallard with obviously paranoid eyes. He couldn't have kept the depth of his attachment to the garment hidden if he tried. At least Jack was quick.

"There," the rhythmist said triumphantly, "Good as new. Although no points for fashion sense," he added as he handed to clothing back to fidgety bassist.

Relief flooded Reggie's body as it fully sunk in that the cherished item had been returned in one piece. He sighed softly as the fabric touched his leafy fingers once again. Scrutinizing eyes quickly took to searching out the recent repairs for inspection. Reggie couldn't deny being somewhat surprised at the perfection of the mending. If he hadn't known that the holes were just there he would never have been able to tell; they might as well have been completely invisible.

"Wow, this is… actually really good," he said, eyes still examining the black garment. "Thanks, I guess," he finished awkwardly as he slipped back into the treasured item. "I'm impressed."

"Heh, Jacky fun fact! I make_ all_ my own clothes," he said, an overly chipper edge to his voice as he shoved his sewing needle back where it had come from. "Those hoity toity rich types just don't understand my uniquely awesome sense of style," he replied, fluffing a dangling end of his hat up as though it were hair.

Reggie raised a brow at the action, his attention drifting to the nearby mirror behind the bar. The other duck's display seemed to make him notice how obnoxiously purple his hair really was.

"Whada ya think would happen if I tried to dye this shit?" he questioned to no one in particular, pulling at one of the lavender locks.

He shouldn't have been surprised at who answered. Within moments, Jack was behind him, gazing at him over his shoulder. Reggie shuddered at the sudden, uncomfortably close proximity as he stared at the jester's reflection.

"Well, given my experience with hair care, it would probably fry and fall out," Jack said, snickering as he fluffed the soft petals fleetingly.

Reggie jumped at the touch. He would have been more relieved when the contact ended if the jester hadn't decided to lean in close, his mask-clad face just barely far enough from Reggie's cheek to not be touching the smooth green skin.

"But don't you _dare_ try and change it," Jack continued, a surprisingly serious tone behind his words and a harsh look on his face. It didn't take long for his usual perverse smirk to return. "I _adooore_ how colorful you are."

Reggie shuddered at the playfully sensual tone. He barely even noticed his own sigh of relief when the other pulled away to drop himself in the vacant seat between him and Elmo.

"You know I'm never allowed to wear more than four colors at a time," he continued huffily, crossing his arms over his chest in displeasure. "And three of them have to be shades of black!"

Reggie was almost tempted to smirk at the annoyed look on Jack's face. He'd never considered that the jester was being color deprived. Before he could even offer any kind of answer, the sound of heels on the floor behind them drew his attention from his lurid band mate. He could almost tell it was Sapphire before he even turned around to look. The scent of her perfume floated towards them as she moved closer, bringing the enchanting smell of flowers and sweet spice with her as she approached. The fact that her eyes were fixed on him the entire time was not lost on Reggie. His heart began to pound faster as it became obvious that she intended to join them. The mallard beside him didn't even have to turn around to know she was coming.

Jack sniffed the air, bill practically curling in repulsion at the aroma that wafted his way. "Ugh… I smell skank," he said with a notable edge of disgust to his voice.

"I was about to say the same," Sapphire purred in reply, leaning over his shoulder.

She knew that the close proximity would annoy the jester, and that was something she enjoyed very much; she was obviously unruffled by the customary trash talk.

"Oooh, it's _you_ Sapphire." He shuddered dramatically. "No wonder it smells like slut in here."

"So sorry Jacky, I didn't realize only one queen hussy was allowed to stink this place up."

"Ha! You know it bitch," Jack replied, using one finger to push her away by her curved beak, the digit barely touching her as though she were covered in something repulsive.

"Now ladies, play nice," Bud interjected, knowing all too well that the semi-playful bickering would escalate very quickly if not interrupted.

"_Fiiiiiiine_," Jack answered with a roll of his eyes. "Sapphire, for a walking piece of nasty, festering vagina you're… not the worst."

"Oh, you have _such _a way with words Jacky _darliiing_," Sapphire hummed playfully in reply. "Oh you are just the sweetest!" she cried, throwing her arms around the guitarist and forcing his large bill into the depths of her well-endowed chest.

Jack could only produce a muffled cry of terror in response, gasping for air when he finally freed himself from the ample cleavage. "Ahhhh my face! It's infected with nasty GIRL COOTIES!" he cried, falling to the floor theatrically. "It buuuuurns!"

The gorgeous bird rolled her eyes in response.

Elmo snickered nasally at his friend's display, obviously offering no pity for Jack's girl repulsion. "I think ya might wanna leave before Jack melts on us girly," he said still scoffing in amusement.

"Yeah, beat it vagina," Jack said, returning to his seat as though nothing had happened. "Time for boy bonding time. And take everyone else with you while you're at it… slutbag."

Sapphire couldn't help but laugh. She had always found Jack and his extreme distaste for women as more amusing than insulting.

"Well, I suppose it's about time I escorted dear Benjamin's drunk ass home anyways."

Before she could say anything else, said dog that just happened to be within earshot of her statement decided to join them. "Eww, don't call be _Benjamin_ babes. It's humiliating," he said, slipping an arm around her waist more to keep himself standing than anything else.

Her laughs returned at the unexpected appearance of the drunken canine, the chortles only increasing when Benny swung around and started pulling her towards the door.

"Bye boys," she called before they were too far away. "See you soon. _Reginald_," she said over her shoulder, the hypnotizing look filling her eyes once again as she left.

Reggie's blush returned with a vengeance.

"Oooooo, she wants your hard wood BAD Bushy," Jack snickered as soon as the two were gone.

"Says who?" Reggie muttered, taking out a cigarette to avoid the clown's gaze.

"Sapphire has a _thing _for fellas of your… exotic persuasion. Isn't that right Buddy?"

The shit-eating grin that Bud produced in reply was more than enough of an answer.

"Yeah, well it's not so difficult when you can grow your own personal _dildo_," Reggie retorted, his irritated voice barely above a mummer.

"Hey, it's not all rubber cocks you know," Bud answered distractedly, setting about pouring drinks for each of them.

Reggie's eyes widened at the response. "They like just… water?" he questioned, unable to deny his curiosity at the statement.

"You've never been _acquainted_ with a water jet, have you Reggie?" Jack asked, mischievous grin only serving to increase the other bird's embarrassment.

The slightly blushing mallard chose not to offer a reply; the answer was obvious anyway.

"Yeah, well I still don't see why they would want a mutant so much."

"Oh please, half the reason they want some of that is _because_ you're a mutant," the other mallard replied.

"Yeah, totally. The bitches go crazy for the mutated ones," Elmo added. "Heh, but then most of them will fuck just about any of our bassists just to say they did," he finished, snorting obnoxiously.

"Yeeah, just ask Buddy. He's the expert on bassist fucking. In't that right Buddy boy?" Jack said, turning his attention to the wet canine that had since slipped behind the bar to mix the various alcoholic concoctions he had selected for each of them.

"Hey now, don't bring me into this… I'm too busy. Yeah, see, I'm getting the booze," he said swiftly, slipping away to shift through the selection of alcohol that the bar had to offer in an attempt to avoid responding; he soon flowed so far down the wall of liquor that he could no longer even hear the others.

"Well, somehow I still doubt it," Reggie answered, choosing to ignore Bud's comment completely.

"So, you're telling me you don't believe that they wanna try out your log ride just cause you're a mutant?" Jack questioned, downing his drink as he waited for an answer.

"Yeah, I'm sure most people are _real_ turned on by splinters," Reggie replied, "Might as well accept that my cock is useless now… if I still had it," he finished with a slightly saddened glance to his woody lap.

"Oh, like you were _really_ using it anyway."

Reggie growled at the retort. "What would _you_ know?"

"_Pleease,_ you might as well have a big ol' virgin stamp in the middle of your forehead," Jack replied mockingly.

"You don't know shit!"

"So, are you a virgin?"

"I don't see how that's any of your fucking business," Reggie grumbled quietly.

"HA! Well, that's just a fancy way of saying yes," Jack snorted. "Why don't we just ask the one who would know best?!"

Reggie's eyes practically bulged out of his head when the insane rhythmist suddenly knelt on the floor in front of him, pushing the other drake's stool away from the bar slightly so that he had room to point his face between Reggie's bark-covered knees.

"Why hello there little Bushy!" Jack said to the wooded nethers, speaking to the bassist's lower half as though it were a sad kid in need of a friend. "What do you say little guy? Is it _way_ lame being Reggie's pogo stick?" he cupped a hand over his ear as if listening for a response. "Oh yeah it's real boring here," he continued, his voice altered to a high-pitched representation of the other half of his conversation, "And I'll tell ya Jack, if I don't get some fucking action soon I'm just gonna pack up my little nuts and _leave!_"

"Will you quit talking to my crotch!" Reggie yelled, delivering a firm kick to the underside of the now cackling mallard's bill.

Although a bit halfhearted, the blow was enough to knock Jack back on his tail but hardly sufficient to silence his laughs. The addition of Elmo's soft snickers did not help Reggie's mood.

"Ugh, can we just wait in silence until Buddy comes back? Is that _possible_?" he groaned, rubbing at his temples once he had returned his seat to its original position.

The response produced by the others proved that it wasn't. Despite his current lack of focus, the knowing glance and soft snickers that the two guitarists were sharing did not go unnoticed. Reggie sighed heavily, knowing he would have to address the annoying noises or they would never stop.

"What _now_?"

"Dude, don't call him _Buddy_," Elmo said through his sniggers.

"Yeah, only chicks call him Buddy," Jack added, leaning against his companion as his giggling got worse.

The information left Reggie dumbfounded, mouth slightly agape and mind reeling. Suddenly several confusing moments made a whole lot more sense.

"You're kidding right? I can't call him Buddy just cause I'm a _guy_?"

"Well, sure you _can_," Elmo snorted in reply, "If you _want_ people to think you're his bitch."

"Jack calls him Buddy all the time!" Reggie retorted trying to defend his right to use the nickname without even really knowing why.

"You're not makin' a very good case for yourself there hun," the still very amused rhythmist answered, brow cock and smile crooked.

"Well, he never mentioned that to me," Reggie muttered angrily, leaning back and crossing his slim arms over his chest.

"Oh yes, I imagine he wouldn't," Jack answered with a snicker, his lewd glance to Elmo causing the rodent to join his laughs once again.

As if he could tell he was being talked about, the watery canine chose that moment to reappear. Reggie wasn't sure if he was relieved to see the other or more mortified than before. They all grew silent at the quizzical look Bud directed at them.

"What are you guys talking about?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Reggie muttered.

Jack nudged at his shoulder with an obnoxious wink and a cockeyed smile. The expression on Reggie's face exposed his irritation very clearly.

"Riiiight," Bud answered, gaze narrowed doubtfully at them, "Well, since we're all gonna get it from Negs now anyway, guess we might as well enjoy the night while we can."

"Ooo sounds fun sweet buns. What're we gonna do?" Jack asked excitedly.

"Well we _were_ playing a drinking game," the drummer replied.

"Hey, _yeeah_. I could seriously use some of that right now," Elmo said, "I'd like to forget as much of tonight as possible."

"Oh, oh! Let's play truth or dare!" Jack suggested eagerly.

"No," Bud snapped, "The last time we played truth or dare I ended up getting stained pink for _weeks_. Besides, that's not a proper drinking game anyway."

"Fine, Mr. Buzzkill." Jack rubbed his chin, obviously considering his choices very intently. "Oh I know! We can play I've never!"

"What the hell is that?" Reggie questioned, undeniably nervous at how excited the suggestion made Jack.

"Geez, you really don't get out much do ya Reggie?" the other mallard retorted.

"You just say something you've never done and anyone who _has_ done that has to drink," Elmo answered. "I suck at that game," he muttered as an afterthought.

"Yeah well, I wanna play anyway. Let's play, let's _plaaaaaay_!" Jack replied, bouncing in his seat.

"Works for me. I plan on getting drunk either way," Bud responded with a chuckle.

"And I already forgot what the hell we were doing!" Elmo added amusedly.

Bud lifted a brow at the slouching mallard beside him, sly grin sliding across his face. Reggie looked back with an almost fearful grimace on his face. He groaned in response to the unspoken question knowing that he really didn't have much choice. If he thought the Old Haunt had been bad before, he knew tonight was going to a mix between traumatizing and unforgettable.

* * *

><p>Bud wouldn't have expected the game to turn quite out as it did. Between Elmo's poor ability to recall details of his past and the fact that most of the statements had not applied to him, the game had essentially become an all-out war between Jack and Reggie. The currently giggling guitarist was becoming quite amazingly adept at deducing things Reggie would have done based on what he already knew. Jack was more crafty and intuitive than most people would expect, and even in his own increasingly inebriated state, with every secret Reggie revealed he lent the other avian more information to build off of. For the bassist's part his job wasn't too hard. Even for him it wasn't too difficult a task to come up with some depraved or overly childish act to make the jester drink, but as the hours wore on it was quite apparent that the game was starting to take a serious toll on Reggie; things wouldn't last much longer.<p>

"Iiiii've never… hm. You know.. m' starting to have a tough time thinking of things I ain't never done yet." Jack said with a slur, laughing drunkenly as he slouched back against the sofa they had since relocated to, drink threatening to spill as he flopped against the soft cushions.

"Thas it! M' done!" Reggie finally said, half slurring and half yelling the statement as he raised himself from the slightly worn furniture. "I hate t-his game, an I hate _all_ a, you all. M' going! …. Goin'… somewhere…" he trailed off putting a hand to his whirling head.

"Pfft, party pooper," Jack mumbled in reply.

A quick end was put to Reggie's journey to nowhere when the world began to spin. He groaned gripping the edge of a nearby table for support as a wave of nausea hit him.

"Shit, I'm dizzy," he muttered, putting a hand to his suffering head.

Bud chuckled slightly in amusement at the intoxication of his fellow mutant. He was about to get up and assist the lightweight mallard when a harsh bang shattered the silence that had followed Reggie's soft statement. The leafy duck focused his foggy gaze on the source of the noise, trying desperately to make out who was there. Reggie swallowed harshly in fear of the threatening shadow in the doorway; he had a bad feeling he knew what it meant.

In the dim entryway was the hunched form of Negaduck his glowing red eyes giving away his identity without the others even having to fully see him. His fists were clenched and obviously shaking with rage as he scanned the bar for his quarry. There was suddenly an added sickness assaulting Reggie's stomach.

"Wellll kids, party's over," Jack muttered, sitting up only to fall against his slim companion's shoulder a moment later as his own inebriation got the better of his balance.

The entire group could hear the deep snarls the singer was giving off as finally started making his way towards them; the sound of his boots against the wooded floors lent the approach a sinister quality that made Reggie give out a barely audible but still plainly pitiful moan. He swallowed around the ill sensation in his throat, unsteady feet trying to carry him backwards as the other duck advanced upon them. Reggie suddenly felt very vulnerable not sitting with the others.

"What _exactly _do you assholes think you're doing here?" the fuming singer sneered.

"Drinkin'! _Duuh_," Jack replied.

The retort did not sit well with Negaduck. A sharp growl made Jack stiffen nervously despite his drunkenness.

"It was his idea to fry the elevator!" he answered in response, pointing an accusing finger at Elmo.

"Like hell!" the rodent retorted angrily. "Who said let's go find out what Reggie and Bud are up to?!" he continued, pressing his nose roughly to the end of Jack's bill. "It'll be _fuuuun_ you said. We need a night _out_ you said!"

"Shut up!" Negaduck interrupted before the spat could continue.

He wasn't interested in what the two guitarists had to say. Enraged eyes turned their fury on the still cringing mallard near him. He could hear Reggie swallow nervously as he approached.

"Do you _really_ think that I don't know who started this, _Reginald_?" he growled.

He didn't even give the other a chance to defend himself. Harsh digits clasped around Reggie's neck, practically throwing him to his knees as he turned his fiery eyes on the others.

"You all think this is some kinda fucking GAME?! Is that it?!" he stared them all down as the panicked mallard in his grip continued to claw futilely at the digits encircling his neck.

None of them replied, but the singer could see a certain canine's entire body shaking with the effort of keeping his composure. The evident anger that Bud was directing his way only made Negaduck increase the pressure of his hold. Reggie gasped frantically at the added force; for a painfully long moment, he was sure the other duck would kill him right then and there. With a final snarl the malicious mallard finally threw the other to the ground, turning his attention fully to the others as Reggie gulped for air.

"All of you had better get your asses out of here NOW!"

No one argued. They each slipped passed Negaduck without a word; Elmo holding his unsteady companion up and Bud flowing angrily behind them. He couldn't help but look over his shoulder at the still wheezing bassist as they went. Reggie was shuddering pitifully, clutching at his still suffering stomach as the other hand shielded his neck protectively. Fluid eyes flicked fleetingly to Negaduck as he trudged towards the door, unsure if it would just invoke more of the evil duck's rage if he helped the currently debilitated bassist. It was obvious that the singer didn't really care at that point either way. Bud acted quickly, grabbing Reggie by his slender arms and yanking him to his feet. The shivering mallard didn't resist as he was pulled swiftly towards the door. Once standing, he was able to walk well enough on his own to pull away from the dripping drummer, falling behind him in an attempt to remain discrete as they followed close behind Negaduck. He did everything he could to keep the sick feeling in his stomach at bay as they walked, rubbing his sore neck to try and distract himself. The sight that met him as the doors gave way to the menacing metropolis outside was more than enough to take his mind off the discomfort.

Reggie was so distracted that he didn't immediately notice that something had stopped the others dead in their tracks, the abrupt halt causing him to run into the watery form in front of him. He shook the water from his face, rubbing his head as he peered around Bud to see what had caused the delay. All that his hazy, drunken gaze could really make out through the dark was the unclear outline of a bike and a single eye: a steely half-gaze that tore through the shadows to focus on intently upon them. The little bit of light that fell upon the curves and crevices of the heavily customized supersport motorcycle did not do the high-speed piece of machinery justice. Reggie didn't know why, but there was a certain air of familiarity about the shadowy figure sitting upon it; a certain similarity to the form that made him shiver in dread. He couldn't help but notice that the eerie eye was staring right at him, studying him. Reggie was undeniably unsettled by the scrutiny.

"Who da hell is tha?" he asked softly, still unable to keep the slight slur from his voice.

"Oh, that's just Drakey," Jack muttered, throwing his companion's balance off and forcing the rodent to throw both arms around his midsection to keep them both standing as he leaned closer to Reggie, "He's a real downer," he added in an obnoxious whisper, the volume of his statement falling extremely short of inconspicuous.

The harsh glare Negaduck sent them silenced the brief conversation quickly. A toothy grin slipped across his face as he returned his attention to the shrouded mallard before them.

"Well, hey there sugar tits," he said, an almost ecstatic edge to his guttural voice. "Been awhile. I was starting to think you didn't wanna play with me anymore," he finished, advancing further on the other.

The slow approach immediately elicited a response, and it was not what Negaduck had been hoping for. With a squeal of rubber against hard cement the other duck whipped the back of his bike around and peeled away into the night.

Negaduck didn't waste a second. "In the car NOW jerkwads!" he yelled, "Looks like the ducky might be up for a little game after all."

Reggie couldn't help the groans that sounded at the thought of getting back into Elmo's beloved vehicle. Bud literally had to push him towards the metal menace. For once he got in first, pulling the unhappy mallard in behind him. Reggie barely had time to close the door before the pursuit was on. It didn't take long for them to catch up to the speeding bike ahead of them, but as the chase ventured further into the twisted roads littering the heart of St. Canard, things got a lot more complicated.

The hyper-powered machine could more than match the other in speed but its maneuverability was only a fraction of the specialized bike. The insane rodent at the helm compensated as best he could in the best way he knew: general destructive and reckless driving. It was not the sort of trip Reggie was currently capable of dealing with very well. He hung over the side of the car clinging desperately to the door as the swerves and off-road driving added an excessive amount of torment to his already miserable stomach. Tortured groans sounded at every harsh turn making Reggie's pain quite audible to the others.

"Puke on my car and I will HURT you Reggie!" Elmo warned from the front seat.

"Well you're not helping!"

It was all Reggie allowed himself time to say before clamping his hand back over his bill, the other soon joining it. The suffering bassist groaned pitifully, the sound muffled by his leafy fingers.

"Bitch about it on your own time volt breath!" Negaduck snapped at the distracted guitarist. "Just CATCH HIM!"

"What the hell do you want me to do?! I can't take these corners like him in this beast!"

Negaduck growled at the truth behind the statement. "Bud! Follow him!" he yelled.

Bud didn't have to be told twice. With a swift move he had slipped past the mallard to his right and over the side of the speeding limo. Reggie watched him rush past the car and around the sharp bend that their target had disappeared behind. Elmo was forced to take an alternative route; the hefty car unable to take the same turn as the others. Several swerves and terrifying maneuvers later, the hunt ended as abruptly as it had started. As they screeched around the next corner, they found Bud once again. Alone. The tires screamed as Elmo forced his car to break dead in her tracks, the front of the vehicle stopping just short of the watery figure in front of them.

"What the fuck happened this time?!" Negaduck shouted at the drummer, leaping onto his seat so that he could stare down at the water-dog.

"Well, that was a waste of time… again," Jack pouted, hanging over his side of the car. "Why's he out here if he doesn't wanna play with us?"

"That's not what he was here for." Negaduck answered simply, looking over his shoulder at Reggie. "He just wanted to check out our new _bassist_." His attention returned to the living puddle still standing in front of the car, the look on his face plainly displaying his displeasure. "Tell me something Bud. How the HELL do you always manage to lose him?!"

"I don't know he just fucking disappears!" Bud replied defensively.

Negaduck's brow twitched in annoyance at the answer, gaze narrowing dauntingly at him. It was not what he wanted to hear.

"Just get back in the damn car," he snapped, dropping himself back into his seat.

Bud complied quickly, falling to the ground and gliding his way over the back of the limo so as not to disturb Reggie. He was not about to ask the suffering mutant to give up his place by the door. The ride back was far smoother, much to Reggie's relief. He had a feeling Elmo's driving lacked much of its usual flare simply because he feared what the sick mallard in the back might do to his baby. Either way he was thankful.

Finally back in the manor, the four band members sat in silence as their leader stared them down. It was as though he was waiting for an explanation that would never come. Negaduck growled at them for the tenth time in the past few minutes, finally calming his furious thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence.

"You know, I SHOULD maim all your sorry asses for what you've put me through today," he hissed, making his way down the line musicians. "_These_ two are totally fucking trashed," he continued, gesturing to Reggie and the barely conscious rhythmist beside him, "That one is bitchin' about his drug problems and _you_," he snarled stopping on Bud, "Don't even get me _started _on you."

Bud turned his head away, unable to even think of a response.

"BUT," Negaduck continued, "Since I just happen to need you all in decent shape until this album is FINISHED, you just got real fucking lucky. But if any of you EVER try a stunt like this again I _will _end you."

The soft gagging sound that Reggie produced as his stomach lurched was the only response any of them offered. Trembling, blood-stained fingers gripped hastily at his bill in a desperate attempt to keep his rebellious gut under control.

Annoyed, half-lidded eyes scowled at him, Negaduck's brow twitching in aggravation. "Get out of here before you do something to make me loath you even more."

Reggie didn't have to be told twice. He didn't quite run from the room but he certainly didn't take his time. Negaduck's red stare never left him as he rushed out, the burning gaze following him to assure the singer that the other mallard was gone before he continued.

"Now the rest of you," he growled, "You assholes listen to me and you listen good. It seems to me that everyone is getting just a bit too _chummy_ with this bassist." He paused to stare them all down; none of them met this gaze. "Now I don't know if you've all just FORGOTTEN how things work around here but mark my words, I am not going to remind you again! I don't want the bassist knowing any more than he already does. GOT THAT?! Just keep him busy, and keep him away from the lower levels. If this one has to end prematurely I swear I will make you all suffer more than you can _possibly_ imagine."

The look on their faces was enough to assure him they had gotten the message.

"Just keep your mouths shut!" the disgruntled singer continued, turning his back to them in favor of observing his realm from the tall window nearby. "He knows too much already." Negaduck narrowed his eyes at the dark landscape. "Way too much."

* * *

><p>Dun dun duuuuun!<p>

Well there ya have it dears, more metal nonsense now complete with everyone's favorite midnight mallard! Wooo, now we got ourselves a story! Seriously though, things will get more intense after this chapter so the squeamish be warned.

Stay tuned for more tales from the brain of Ariaa!


	8. Four Months Later

Author's note: Let's see… what to say about this chapter? Loooooooooooong! Probably way longer than it needed to be, BUT considering this will be my last chance to really show all the boys just interacting with each other I couldn't resist. So, sorry if it seems like there's a bit much going on without the story actually going anywhere.

…. Yeah that's all. Done too much writing already. Enjoy your goodies!

Warning: Some nonconsensual stuff. Nothing that graphic, but I feel morally obligated to warn any unsuspecting victims who might want to avoid my shameless, slightly evil, smutty-ramblings.

You have been warned.

* * *

><p>Another red dawn in St. Canard: the misty metropolis once again engulfed in a blazing swell of turmoil. Only one more night remained before the show the fans had been waiting for, and at that point they were beyond sitting by patiently, the reward they knew would be coming sending them back into a flurry of excitement and their own brand of caustic fun. It was as though the past four months had never passed at all.<p>

The manor that secluded the group was a far different story. There were no parties, no cause for jubilation, only a suffocating stillness that engulfed the musicians within. The air was heavy and almost stale, groaning with the dense torrent of screams drifting from the realm below. The entire building seemed to tense around the enclosed band members: a reflection of the collective stress among the metal group.

It was a rare quiet moment that morning; few had been seen in the preceding months. Reggie was sitting on one of the smaller sofas situated around the main room, facing the large windows and soaking in the shining rays. Beside him, glittering in the fiery light, was Bud. He was as internally restless as any of them, and just as the mallard beside him he was quietly practicing his parts by beating his sticks in the air as though his drum set was actually there. A soft splashing of water accompanied his movements as he tapped both feet to the songs in his head, mimicking the two bass drums that would be there. Despite the nearly silent practice, the drummer had yet to truly take his attention off the leafy vision beside him.

The early dawn was always one of the few times he could catch Reggie with some of his guard down, and Bud always enjoyed those rare calm moments he got to spend with the floral-bird. It was about the only time he could ever get Reggie to share any stories. The tales were always menial; it was the way Reggie told them, the things he said that really told Bud a lot about him. He was starting to understand the subtle things: the way his mouth twitched, the slight raising and lowering of his brow, the looks in his blue eyes. They all spoke magnitudes about the bassist's true feelings, and when Bud had first met him he hadn't even noticed.

Of course Reggie was still resistant to it. He didn't like the idea of relying on anyone or letting them get close to him, but despite his complaints, as the weeks wore on it was obvious that he gravitated towards Bud. Not that the drummer blamed him, but whether the moody duck was willing to admit it or not Bud was becoming an increasing source of comfort for him. Since the night he'd held the mallard in his arms as his fingers burned and his screams of pain filled the manor, Reggie had slowly been increasing his level of tolerance to his presence. He still did his best to avoid physical contact, but his socially-awkward nature often compelled him to seek out the dripping dog's company. Although Bud suspected—or perhaps hoped—that there was more to it than that. He still couldn't quite tell at times, but the drummer was getting better at reading his newly acquired companion.

He had to give him one thing: he was faring extremely well considering that Negaduck seemed to enjoy torturing him more than any of the previous additions to the band. Bud's face fell at the thoughts it dredged up. He was finding that he didn't like to think about the short lifespan their bassist's usually possessed. It wasn't normally something he even bothered to dwell on. It was just the way it was— the way it always had been. They had always been just faces before, a fleeting presence, a momentary voice, perhaps even objects of sexual desire but nothing more. Not like Reggie.

Not at all like Reggie.

Bud turned to the room's other occupants to provide distraction from his thoughts when he heard a quiet spat break out between Elmo and Jack. The two were currently sitting with the music spread out before them arguing about the contents. They had all been stressed to their limits while trapped within the manor, but Elmo and Reggie had easily had it the hardest. Aside from the fact that Negaduck seemed to enjoy tormenting them more than Jack or Bud, they were also the two that had been suffering the most from his neurotic nitpicking. He had completely rewritten Reggie's parts at least twice and had since forced him to switch to a six string bass – the new guitar was what he was currently plucking at.

Despite the superior quality of the sleek, black instrument, Reggie still preferred his old one and never kept it far away. His currently shaking and exhausted fingers gave external evidence of how difficult adapting to the new guitar had been. The leafy digits had finally healed from their abuse but it had taken a long time and they still grew very stiff when he forced them to practice so much. As if the pain wasn't enough, it took a lot of work to play on the additional strings with only two available fret fingers. The constant changes had been hell on Reggie's psyche, but they had been far worse on the resident rodent.

Elmo did not have the benefit of being able to make sense of the notes on paper like Reggie did, but even if he could he lacked the ability to memorize them. The only way the guitarist could ever remember his parts was to play them so much they became engrained in his being, the movements becoming essentially instinctual; it required a lot of practicing. That morning was no exception, but at that point they were all on their last nerve, ready to lash out at each other any moment. Arguments had been very common place in the past couple weeks. But then again, that was just how the two guitarists were anyway.

Bud couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head in amusement when the brief spat turned into a brief make out session. He leaned back against the couch, ceasing his midair drumming to relax for a bit as he went back to staring stealthily at Reggie. He nearly jumped out of his wet skin when Reggie glanced over to observe the most recent round of practice that the other two guitarists were just starting. At least the comical jam session seemed to be enough to keep him from noticing that Bud had been staring.

"Widdly widdly wah, widdly wah, w-"

"Whoa, wait, wait, wait. I thought the wahs came before the widdlies."

Jack sighed at having to stop yet again, turning to his companion so that he could tap his foot at him in annoyance. "How many times have I told you Sparky, the wahs NEVER come before the widdlies. Now let's do it again! Heh… do it."

"Alright, alright," the forgetful rodent mumbled in reply, his fingers dancing across his strings momentarily as they both prepared to start again.

A brief countdown later and the music resumed beginning an amazingly synchronized, albeit a somewhat lazy, head bang. Reggie made a mental note to keep his distance from the crazed rhythmist any time he did so in the future: his spiked bells looked very unpleasant to be smacked with.

Jack started chuckling softly as the tune trailed off.

"Is that really how it goes?" Elmo asked, sniggering nasally.

"No, I _totally_ just started making shit up," Jack replied, still plucking absently at his strings, his continued chuckles making the vibrations strangely amusing.

Elmo snorted at the reply. "Heh, me too. Sounded pretty bangin' though."

"I know, right?! We are just that fabulous Mo," Jack responded, flipping a wrist at him, "This really is starting to bum me out though. Could ya _try _and remember what the hell we're doing. I'm gonna get seriously pissed if I have to go through this too many more times."

"Shut up!" Elmo retorted, his tone much akin to a child pouting at his older sibling. "We wouldn't have to go through this shit so much if he didn't keep changing the damn songs _every_ time we get a new bassist!"

Jack rolled his eyes theatrically at him in response. "Yeah, yeah, alright don't get your panties in a twist. Let me get the fuckin' music."

"Ugh, don't bother Jack. If I try to cram one more goddamn note into my head my brain is gonna fry," the exhausted rodent groaned, rubbing at his throbbing temple as he began to make his way towards the stairway behind them. "I need a recharge… I'm gonna go take a nap."

"Oooooo, I'll come with you," Jack said, his excitement poorly hidden.

Elmo put out his hand, the outstretched arm effectively stopping the energetic clown in his tracks. "I wanna SLEEP Jack."

"Yeah… so?"

Elmo cocked a brow at him. "So, no playtime."

"Who says I was just interested in _playtime_?" Jack replied, crossing his arms in a huff.

"Are you ever NOT?"

Jack thought about this for a moment, considering his answer. "Okay, fair enough. I'll find something ELSE fun to do Mr. Grumpypants." A thought seemed to strike him at his own words compelling him to bounce over to the nearby bassist as his fatigued friend turned to leave. "Hey, Bushy! Wanna plaaaay?" he purred, wrapping an arm around the bassist from behind and caressing his green cheek impishly.

Reggie jolted severely at the suggestive stroking, falling clumsily from his seat at the soft touch.

The horrified expression the other mallard was suddenly sending his way made Jack take a few steps back, studying him curiously. "_Geez_ Reggie, chill out. You act like I'm gonna molest you at any minute."

The annoyed, half-lidded expression displayed the bassist's inner thoughts without him having to actually say anything.

Jack rolled his eyes at the look. "Yeah okay, that's slightly founded. But you STILL need to relax boy." The frisky gaze returned full force. "Come _ooon_, play with me!"

Reggie's eyes widened at the increased level of naughtiness in the jester's look. "Oh, fuck no!" he yelped, scrambling quickly to get away.

It hardly did much to deter the juvenile chase that followed. Mad cackles trailed Reggie all over the room as the leafy-mutant tried desperately to get away. Jack pouted unhappily when the other duck finally managed to escape by elongating his abnormally stretchy body and struggling his way up to perch atop the immense entertainment set that housed the large TV and Elmo's remarkable array of gaming devices. He looked very much like a cat hiding from the threat of a bath. Bud couldn't help but laugh at the display.

"Oh, poo. You're no fun at all, ya know that?" Jack grumbled, finally turning away to plop himself beside the now chuckling puddle.

"Your kind of fun I can sure as hell live without," Reggie grumbled as he made his way down the large cabinet, avoiding the various spikes and rough edges as he went.

He trudged back to the sofa, picking up his discarded bass and strumming lazily on the strings. Jack opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a characteristically loud entrance by their leader. The deafening bang was more than enough to gain their attention, and they didn't like seeing the angry duck one bit. The lead singer was becoming more and more difficult to manage as the days passed and he was starting to push them all to their limits. The mallard had locked himself away for nearly all of the past three days only summoning any of them to replay a part that he was displeased with. It had been a frustrating process for the entire band, and Negaduck's legendary temper had made him all but impossible to live with. He was literally shaking in his frustration, back hunched and scanning the room for his latest target.

"BUSHROOT!" the tense mallard yelled once his searching eyes finally pinpointed the other mallard.

"What?" Reggie squeaked in reply, clutching his bass in fear of what the other duck wanted.

"Your ass, in the box, NOW!"

Reggie scurried obediently after the departing singer as he turned from the room. He was hardly in any mood to be back in the "box" as Negaduck liked to call it, but he didn't dare offer any resistance. The secluded recording room was one of his least favorite places to be and he'd been forced to endure it more than any of them. Well, besides Elmo perhaps.

"STOP! Do it again!"

Reggie huffed, his extreme irritation growing when Negaduck stopped him yet again. He glared briefly, pausing to blow at some of the stray strands of hair currently in his face before restarting. Sore fingers played the same rift for the fifteenth time in a row, the metal strings of his guitar almost screeching under the continued stress. One string in particular had been abused to the point that it could no longer stand the strain, the worn wire finally being pushed past its breaking point.

Reggie jumped harshly as the thick cord broke, recoiling instinctively in fear that the snapped string might hit him. "Uhhh…" he breathed, unsure what else to say.

Negaduck dropped his face into his hands trying to block out the throbbing migraine assaulting his skull. The persistent ailment had been growing steadily worse as the time passed and it was becoming increasingly inconvenient. It had long since passed a point that even medicine could help, and the other band members only made his head throb more. He was as ready as any of them for it all to be over.

"Just get out of my sight," he grumbled; the slight defeat and extreme irritation were obvious in his voice. "And tell Sparks to get his ass in here!" he yelled as the other slipped out the door.

Reggie grumbled at the barked order, blowing habitually at his bangs once again as he went off in search of assistance. He never would like the servants. The only time they ever seemed to be around was when he really didn't want to see them. When he did need them, the manor was so vast and Negaduck hated the underlings so much that they were impossible to find. The fruitless search finally brought him back to the devil room where he found Jack laying with his head in Bud's lap, tugging at his guitar strings humorously.

"Well, hey there honey bun. Back so soon?" Jack questioned playfully when he noticed the plant-duck had returned.

"Broke a damn string," Reggie griped in reply, "Where the HELL am I supposed to get a new one?"

"Strings and all other electrical or instrumental issues are Elmo's department. You'll have to go talk to him," Bud answered, pointing a thumb towards the hallway that led to their rooms. "Opposite side of the hall from yours and four doors down."

Reggie hummed softly in reply, turning to leave without further indication that he had heard the other at all. The drummer paid it little mind; he was used to the minimal responses. Bud's ears perked as he remembered an important addition he should probably warn him about.

"Careful though!" he called after the departing bassist, "Jack's room is right after it and _believe_ me you don't wanna know what's in there! … wish I didn't know half the shit that's in there," he muttered as an afterthought.

"Oh, _please_. You know you love my kinkiness Buddy boy," Jack responded lazily.

Reggie noted the information silently as he slipped down the dim hall. He certainly had little desire to end up in Jack's room. He had never been in any of them besides his own, which was really the way he preferred it for the most part, and the crazed clown's room was the last one he had any desire to visit. Although distracted by the disturbing idea of what depravity might be concealed within Jack's room, it was hardly a difficult a task to spot the dwelling he was searching for. A soft glow and nearly silent hum revealed the resident rodent without Reggie even having to see him.

He knocked softly on the barely open door, speaking somewhat timidly through the minimal opening. "Uh, Elmo? … you in there?" he called.

Leafy fingers pushed the barrier open more when Reggie received no reply, blue eyes widening at the sight that greeted him when he stuck his head through the entryway. All around the room soft lights were glowing and strange machines gathered in strangely lifelike conglomerations. Along the floor, several small robots roamed: their construction a collection of discarded metal and otherwise useless wires. The barrage of visual abnormality was difficult to take in at first, but the cognizant trinkets were oddly beautiful in their intricate and obviously hand-made nature.

Although every contraption in the room was admittedly captivating, there was one that stood out above all the others literally towering above the smaller devices. The mechanism occupied its own corner of the room, stretching out along the ceiling and almost melding with the high barrier. It looked as though the heavy metal cords reaching from its apex were attempting to breach the high barrier above. The sight made Reggie's jaw drop as he inspected the many intricate crevices of the remarkable machine. Below it the resident guitarist seemed lost in an odd sleep. He was curled up on a make shift bed of colorful pillows and demented stuffed animals more suited to nightmares than child's play. Reggie had a feeling a certain deranged duck was responsible for that particular portion of the room.

He couldn't control the shudder that ran down his spine at the sight of the rodent hooked up to the enormous device. It looked like something from a twisted film: an alarming and painful-looking linkage of man and mechanism that made Reggie seriously wonder about the young musician. The six metal inputs on his back were each connected to slender, sparking wires, impaled into his skin by long metal spines that hooked into the circular inputs. To top it off, a particularly thick and elaborate attachment was connected to the base of his skull and side of his head, shooting harsh waves of energy periodically into the sleeping rat. Reggie could see Elmo quiver in response every now and then. Only the unnerving shocks seemed to ease him, small smiles fleeting across his face every time it happened.

"Elmo?" Reggie repeated uncertainly, wooded feet carrying him cautiously closer.

He crouched down in front of the rodent when his continued attempts to get his attention went unheard. He slipped a hand out hesitantly, reaching slowly for the sleeping guitarist. It didn't take long for Reggie to realize the mistake he just made. The second his digits contacted the other musician's furry shoulder a sharp zap of electricity shot into his body. Reggie was thrown onto his back at the contact, suddenly breathless and staring dumbstruck at the bizarre ceiling.

The sudden, excessive jolt found Elmo sitting abruptly upright head flipping back and forth erratically in search of what woke him. He finally glanced to the ground where a very dazed Reggie was still lying on his back, hair standing on end and his body convulsing ever so slightly. Despite his shock, the still groggy rat couldn't help but snicker at the wide-eyed mallard.

"_Yeeeah,_ someone probably shoulda warned you not to touch me when I'm hooked up to this beast," he said, pointing a gloved finger over his shoulder at the immense machine.

Reggie inhaled sharply as he finally managed to coax his body into a sitting position, the chaotic purple hair and slight singes all over his body reviving Elmo's laughs as he lifted himself up.

"Yeah," he finally managed to choke out breathlessly, "Thanks for the info Mo."

Elmo chuckled yet again at the fun rhyme. It wasn't very often Reggie even used the nickname at all let alone in a deliberately whimsical way.

"So uh, what can I do for ya Reg?" he finally questioned. "I'm sure you're not just here for the free electroshock therapy," he added with a slight snigger.

Reggie shuddered at the notion; that was certainly an experience he never wanted to go thorough again.

"Yeah, as _great _as that was, I just needed a new string," he replied, holding out his bass for Elmo's inspection.

"Awww, poor baby got a broken string huh?" Elmo muttered sympathetically as he took the guitar from the other; Reggie couldn't help but notice that he seemed to be addressing the instrument more than him. "Damn Reg. You broke the thick one too. Be a little gentler, will ya? I don't think she likes it this rough," he continued, stroking his fingers lightly along the remaining cords as he stood carefully from his bed of pillows, dragging the still attached wires behind him.

Reggie rolled his eyes amusedly, watching as the absentminded rodent walked across the room. He couldn't help being somewhat amazed at how he seemed to be able to navigate around the small robots and other devices littering his floor without even really looking. The brief trip ended when he reached the peculiar dresser by his bed, the wires hooked into his spine stretching to their limit at the reach. The opening of the two doors revealed a supply of guitar strings the likes of which Reggie had never seen before all displayed in neat rows along the walls of the cabinet. The captivated duck watched in fascination as Elmo rifled through several internal compartments in search of his stash of bass strings. A small sound of triumph told Reggie that he had located his target.

Once the search had produced the cord in question, Elmo plopped himself onto the floor and set about restringing the guitar. It was an incredible sight to watch the rodent remove the broken string so quickly and put the other one in place. He plucked at the newly replaced wire a few times as he stood to be sure it was in properly before handing the black bass back to the waiting mallard.

"There, good as new," he stated as he returned the instrument to Reggie, already nestling back into his mass of colorful cushions.

"Thanks," Reggie replied simply, slinging the bass over his back and trying to get his hair under control as he stood. "Oh, I wouldn't get too comfortable though," he added with a glance over his shoulder, "Negaduck wants you in the recording room."

Elmo whined pitifully in response, clamping his hands over his ears as though it would block out the undesirable information. "Ehhhh, you have GOT to be kidding meeee."

Reggie didn't blame him for being less than pleased, but he couldn't help but snort slightly at the muffled muttering that followed as Elmo complained into his pillows. He decided a farewell was unnecessary considering it would probably just go ignored by the displeased rat at that point anyway. Back in the hallway, Reggie just let his mind wander as he walked slowly back towards the main hall smoking a freshly lit cigarette as he went. It was only by chance that he happened to catch sight of the slightly open door to his right. It wouldn't have even grabbed his attention the way it did if it hadn't been for the fact that the door wasn't usually open at all.

Bud's room.

Something about his recent look into the private realm of Elmo seemed to compel him to wonder what secrets the chamber might contain. He glanced around as though assuring that no one would catch him snooping before pushing the door open just enough that he could slip thorough the entry. The suite was remarkably empty: such an extreme contradiction to the cluttered pandemonium that was Elmo's residence. The first thing he happened to notice was a fair sized bed in one corner. He couldn't deny being surprised; he wasn't sure if Bud slept at all let alone in a bed, but what was far more captivating was the two impressive drum sets that took up most of the opposite side of the room. One was blazing red with intricate black designs across its many different components—a clash of color and madness on its twin bass drums. The other was more subtle and yet strangely more alluring. It was somehow exactly what Reggie would have expected the drummer to own: a strange physical representation of the canine that suited him in a way that was hard to explain. It looked like it had a thousand shades of blue in it, the designs practically blending in with the background and yet adding so much to the look of the sets' shining surface. It was mesmerizing.

"Admiring my babies there Reg?"

The soft yet still playful question made Reggie jump more from getting caught snooping than from the unexpected intrusion. He was starting to seriously wish that the watery drummer made more noise.

"Sorry," he muttered uncomfortably.

"Hmm, didn't really say it bothered me, did I?"

Reggie offered only a shrug in reply.

Bud tilted his head bemusedly at him. "So, what do you think of my digs?"

Reggie thought this over for a moment considering what his opinion really was. "Well, I hope you didn't pay your interior decorator too much."

A stupid grin plastered itself on Bud's face as he laughed at the observation. It was only so often plant-duck even remotely tried to be humorous and it always had the same enamoring effect on him. Reggie didn't wait for an answer. He began wandering around the spacious room absently, pausing slightly when he reached the large bed beside the towering windows overlooking the city. He tipped his head at the unexpected furniture.

"There is one thing I don't quite get," he finally said.

"Oh?" Bud questioned, undeniably curious as to what Reggie wanted to know.

"Why the hell do you have a bed?"

Bud cocked a brow at him, amused and suggestive smirk snaking across his face. "Well, most ladies don't appreciate having to screw on the _floor_ all the time."

Reggie flushed slightly as he realized how stupid his question actually was. "Right," he mumbled, rubbing at the back of his head self-consciously. He couldn't believe he was even going to ask it, but he couldn't resist the curiosity suddenly welling inside him. "Does that actually… feel good?"

Bud was too shocked to reply at first. It took a moment for his head to wrap around the fact that Reggie had just asked him if sex was actually pleasurable to him anymore. It was a valid question.

"Hmm, well, I suppose at this point I get off more on watching _them_ get off than anything else," he answered, "But, if you _really_ want to know, having some pretty thing take a nice long suck off my water does actually feel pretty fabulous," he finished, toothy smirk only extending when the answer made Reggie blush slightly.

He was sure the uncomfortable mallard produced some sort of reply, but the mumbled and jumbled nature of the soft sentence made it impossible to discern. Bud couldn't resist chuckling at him. Reggie was way too adorable when discussing anything related to sex. He couldn't stop himself from staring at the slightly flushed mallard as the other mutant wandered over to the nearby crimson collection of drums. The action struck an intriguing thought in the watery canine's mind. He slipped behind his favored instrument, pulling a set of sticks from the box he kept nearby. Liquid eyes remained focused on the distracted bird currently running his fingers over the intricate surface of the other drum set. He couldn't help the soft smile he produced when Reggie finally looked over his shoulder at him.

"Play with me," Bud said in response to the questioning look, twirling the drumsticks between his flowing fingers.

"Excuse me?" Reggie questioned, eyes widening and brow cocking at the odd way in which the other chose to word the statement.

Bud rolled his sticks fleetingly against one of the snares to emphasize his request.

"Oh… you want me to play a bass line." Reggie snorted slightly at this. "You wanna play with just the beats?"

"I'm not asking you to play one of our songs. I get the feeling you're pretty sick of that at this point."

The roll of blue eyes assured him this was true.

"Make something up. Or play one of them other songs."

Reggie stiffened at the mention of the music he played in private. "What songs?" he asked nervously.

Bud swirled his eyes at the poor denial that the bassist knew what he was talking about. "The ones you wrote. I know you have. That little diddy you were singing earlier wasn't just off the top of your head."

He was referring to the early hours that had preceded dawn: those special times when Bud rarely slept and Reggie suffered such horrible nightmares that he rarely_ could_ sleep, when a lack of camaraderie and an excess of insomnia compelled the two to seek out one another's company.

The times Bud lived for.

"Who says I wrote them?" Reggie questioned softly, eyes refusing to meet Bud's stare; he wasn't even sure why the mention of the songs made him so uncomfortable.

"Lucky guess."

"… alright, I suppose so."

Bud's grin widened to extensive proportions at the hesitant acceptance. Every moment he got to spend alone with the allusive mallard was a triumph, and listening to Reggie play his own songs had quickly become one of his favorite past times. Playing a part in those melodies was even better than he could have envisioned. The meld of the heavy beat of his drums and the deep tones of Reggie's strings created a unique and surprisingly enchanting sound. Bud could have stayed lost in the private session forever, but the other mutant's ever present vice soon put an end to the dream-like moment.

"Where you going?" Bud questioned as Reggie turned to leave; he did a poor job of hiding the disappointment in his voice.

"Need smokes," the departing bassist answered simply.

Bud couldn't keep his eyes from wandering along Reggie's form as he left, his entire being already aching for the other man to return. A heavy sigh sounded into the nearly empty room, flowing elbows perching on the drums in front of him as he rested his chin on his palms. It was increasingly troubling how much he needed to be in the other's presence, but he still couldn't keep the smitten thoughts from filling his head with visions of green skin and purple hair, fingers dancing along thick bass strings and rarely seen smiles. Fluid lids slipped closed as the gorgeous thoughts filled his mind, shielding the reality of the world from his view.

It wasn't long before the silence was shattered, a nearby shriek followed closely by a string of furious cussing breaking Bud's quiet moment. The violent yells ripped the watery mammal harshly from the dreamy thoughts, coaxing him into a mad dash to Reggie's room two doors down. What he found was chaos. The frantic bassist had practically torn the entire suite apart and was currently rummaging desperately in one of the elaborate dressers situated around the space. The look the furious mallard supported as he turned back towards the entryway was beyond livid. Bud had never seen Reggie so angry; he was literally shaking with fury. It was suddenly very obvious that a certain local clown had finally gone too far.

"I'm gonna kill him," Reggie growled darkly, already rushing past Bud and out of the room.

The drummer was too shocked to react at first, but he quickly pulled himself together, following swiftly after the furious mallard. He knew how quickly things could go from bad to worse when Reggie lacked sufficient nicotine supplies.

"Hey, come on Reg," he said, trying to calm the building outburst, "Will it really kill ya to go a few hours without a cigarette? I mean, if anything it should kill you less… right?"

The furious glare Reggie was supporting when he spun around was more than sufficient to shut him up.

"Or… not," he finished with an awkward attempt at a grin, tugging uncomfortably at his collar as Reggie turned away from him once again.

Another deep snarl sounded when they found the devil room empty, Reggie flipping his petal adorned head back and forth sharply in search of his quarry. The soft sounds of laughter from the small game room connected to the main hall soon made it all too apparent where his target was currently located. Bud sloshed urgently after the fuming mallard, following him into the secluded space where Elmo housed most of his massive video game collection. The only other thing the room held was a rather impressive collection of various mechanized toys that the rodent had created with the aid of his usual partner in crime: the bird currently giggling in his ear as he tinkered with some small mechanical marvel.

"QUACK!" Reggie roared, both guitarists jumping in response, "Do you wanna tell me why the HELL all my smokes are gone?!"

Jack's eyes bulged in shock at the genuine viciousness in Reggie's demeanor. "Oh, my _gawd_ Mo!" he whispered loudly to his companion, slightly dreadful look in his eyes. "I _totally_ forgot where we hid all Reggie's cigarettes."

Elmo scratched at his head stupidly. "We did what now?"

"Remember that game with the grapefruits?"

"….. With the sledge hammer and the go-kart?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

It seemed to require some additional thought for Elmo to pull all the pieces from his memory before he could reply. "Oooh yeeah. That was fun!" he finally answered, obnoxious laughs following the recollection of their arbitrary antics.

Jack cackled madly at the stupid look on his friend's face and the memories of the bizarre situation that had resulted in Reggie's missing smokes.

The laughs didn't stop.

Reggie was absolutely livid by that point. His rarely seen fury welled up, driven on by the chortles still ringing in his ears. He finally snapped. He launched himself onto the couch, wrapping both hands roughly around Jack's collared throat. There was a feral satisfaction in the feeling: a lingering sensation of victory in the faint pressure of the soft feathers against his floral skin. He was beyond thinking of the other's wellbeing; he cared only about the thought of silencing the inane cackles still sounding in his mind despite the fact that they had already stopped.

Reggie only barely registered the feel of watery hands gripping his legs, trying to pry him from his prey. Elmo squeaked in slight horror at the unexpected attack, joining the fight to free his friend from the plant-duck's fury. He pulled desperately at Jack's waist, wrapping his arms around the exposed midsection and pulling with all his might. To most, the picture that the four painted would be somewhat comical, but to the irritated mallard that barged in it was a mix of annoying and purely repulsive. The gruff clearing of his throat brought all but Jack's attention to the furious singer glaring at the rather uncouth display. Bud was the first to really register how compromised they looked. He glanced down at the promiscuous position Reggie's crotch was currently in, noting how suggestive it must look with him pulling the bassist against his hips. Even Elmo, with his own lower half pressed perfectly against the struggling rhythmist's backside was less than savory. Bud suddenly felt as if he they been caught in a very dirty act.

"When you ladies are done with… whatever the hell kinda messed up fuck fest this is, kindly join me in the devil room… and be fucking QUICK about it!"

Reggie's brow twitched erratically in his rage as the other mallard turned to leave, his focus quickly returning to the chocking rhythmist in his grip. It was quite obvious he had little intention of letting the other go just because Negaduck said so.

"Come on Reg, let him go," Bud pleaded, trying to talk some sense into the irrational mutant. "He's not gonna learn his lesson from this anyway."

Reggie growled at the truth in the statement. Deep down he knew it wouldn't change a thing, but that didn't stop the feeling of gratification he received from finally silencing the chortling fool for once.

"I've woken up with potatoes in my bed. Had my hair dyed hot pink. Been groped by you _every_ chance you get AND had to listen to that GODDAMN LAUGH of yours over and over and OVER for WEEKS now, and I've put up with it!" He paused for a moment, the pressure of his hold increased slightly as he stretched his face closer to that of the gasping duck in his grip. "But if you EVER fuck with my ability to smoke again I WILL maim you," Reggie finished with a savage snarl, finally removing his hold on the other bird.

The abrupt release made Bud's stance falter, causing him to land on his wet back with Reggie on top of him. He barely had time to shudder in pleasure at having the other in his lap before Reggie lifted himself up and stomped from the room. Bud flowed slowly to his feet, leaning an elbow on the couch to observe Jack's condition. The deeply gasping mallard was on his knees, chest resting on the sofa and Elmo still situated behind him much as he had been when still trying to free him.

Bud chuckled at the stupid grin that slid across Jack's face. "You alright there Jacky?" he questioned.

"Is it totally wrong that I am _waaay_ turned on right now?" the other finally replied with a slight laugh, tongue lolling stupidly from his mouth.

Bud rolled his watery eyes at him; he knew the overgrown child wouldn't learn anything. "You don't have an off switch, do you Jack?"

"If he does I sure as hell haven't found it yet," Elmo muttered as he helped his still slightly breathless companion from the cushions and back out into the large adjoined room.

The brief chat was put to a swift end when the three finally joined their fellow musicians in the massive main room. Both mallards looked thoroughly displeased. Negaduck didn't even bother to let them sit before beginning his rant.

"Do you all _like_ making me suffer? Is that it?" he questioned, his tone instilled with a false feeling of patience. "Cause let me tell ya, I'm getting pretty TIRED of you all wasting my fucking time!"

There was no reply.

"We have ONE NIGHT LEFT! What do you all not fucking GET about that?!" he continued when none of them offered an answer.

"Well, what the hell do you expect?" Bud interjected, "We've been doing nothing but playing metal nonstop for months! You gotta let us OUT of this place for a while. We're goin' postal here!"

"Sounds like a personal problem," Negaduck growled in reply. It effectively silenced the drummer's objections. "You're not my issue anyway, it's YOU two!" he continued, pointing accusing fingers at both Reggie and Elmo. "Especially you!" he finished, turning the full force of his fiery glare on the slumping lead guitarist. "I swear you're just getting worse! Why the HELL is that?"

"Cause you're pushing him too fucking hard that's why!" Jack snapped, not even waiting for Elmo to say something in his own defense.

The agitated singer's expression only grew in malice and ferocity at the jester's outburst. "I shouldn't have to hold all your hands just because shit-for-brains is too much of a goddamn junkie to remember what the hell he's supposed to do!"

The statement finally ripped Elmo from his mental freeze. "I'm not a fucking junkie!" he yelled, teeth baring in a vicious display.

The look only served to set Negaduck into a round of deep, growling laughter. "Oh, right Sparky," he snorted, moving to grip at Elmo's wrist so he could stretch the slim arm out. "And I suppose these are birth marks, huh?" he questioned, bringing attention to the delicate scars littering the underside of the appendage.

Reggie had never noticed the track marks before, the rodent's course hair hiding the telltale injuries from view, but when exposed the evidence of his years of drug abuse was painfully evident. Elmo's courage sank instantaneously at the baring of the old wounds. The look of pure discomfort and indignity was painfully evident on his face. He finally managed to yank his arm away from the mallard's harsh grip, bolting instinctively behind his nearby companion.

Jack was fuming.

His large jaw trembled from the pressure of his clenched teeth, his mask-clad and normally playful eyes narrowed in fury. It was obvious that he was forcing back a serious outburst.

"Go on faggot, say something. I _dare_ you," Negaduck responded with a growl, red eyes narrowing in warning.

Despite the malicious glare, the sadistic grin that slowly crept across his face betrayed the fact that he would derive great pleasure from a spirited confrontation; he wanted the other mallard to try something. Jack knew it. But his long established need to protect his younger companion was hard to ignore. His whole body shook for a moment as his face twisted into a furious snarl. He wanted the other's blood bad. He finally settled for a pissed off mix between a grow and a yell, grabbing Elmo by the bicep more harshly than he intended as he forced the other out of the room with him.

A suffocating silence followed their departure, the heavy quiet breaking only when a deep growling laugh began to build within Negaduck. He was soon cackling evilly at the small bit of fun he'd manage to coax from the other drake, turning almost lazily to make his way back down the hall that would return him to the solitude of the recording room. The maniacal laughs followed him all the way down the long passageway as he went, making Reggie shudder slightly at the disturbing quality of the evil chortles. At least it seemed the other avian's slightly elevated mood would give them a brief break from the torture.

Bud blinked stupidly at the singer's departure, trying to wrap his mind around everything that had just happened. The two mutants shared a shocked look, neither sure what to say or how to react. Bud was the first to recover, suddenly struck with the inexplicable desire to chuckle uncontrollably. Reggie couldn't help the lopsided grin that spread across his face as the drummer's silly giggling continued. He was certainly going to enjoy the brief reprieve from the others.

As long as someone got him some damn cigarettes.

* * *

><p>It was one of those rare quiet times once again: a peaceful moment that seemed almost unreal amid the smothering tension still suffocating the entire metropolis. Bud was completely lost in the moment. Nothing compared to the feelings elicited within him whenever he was graced with the opportunity to just sit and watch Reggie play. It was not often that he was allowed the privilege.<p>

Both mutants were simply enjoying the brief serenity. It didn't seem to bother Reggie that the sopping drummer was watching him, but the still present tension kept either of them from really knowing what to say. Bud didn't mind. He found the soft sound of Reggie's bass soothing, and he was more than happy to just sit and stare at the other as he played. For once the self-conscious mallard didn't seem to care much about the observation. Leafy fingers just continued to play, the music drifting softly from the small amp at his side and freshly obtained cigarette smoldering in his beak. Bits and pieces of his different songs began to meld together in a captivating way as Bud listened. How many early mornings had he slipped around the manor searching for the elusive melodies in the darkened halls?

It had become Bud's favorite time of day. He was used to being alone at night since he never really slept anymore. He required little more than brief naps since his transformation and often took to wandering the mansion's many passages absentmindedly as he waited for the sun to rise and the others to awaken. Reggie had changed all that. The perpetually restless duck had been plagued with nightmares ever since he had first joined the band, and as much as Bud hated knowing the cause behind them he loved that it had given him someone to spend the lonely dawns with.

It had started as sly observation, Bud sitting himself outside the bassist's door and just listening to Reggie's hypnotic singing, but it wasn't long before the elusive mallard began to wander to different places within the vast home in an attempt to ease his restlessness. While searching the many rooms for the other musician, Bud finally managed to get caught following him around. He was surprised that Reggie didn't mind much. The early hours soon became a strange ritual between them: the only time Bud could coax a few drinks down Reggie's throat and just talk with him. There was nothing he would have traded for the few truly serene moments they shared, but they never lasted long.

It was no unusual source that broke the stillness this time. Jack's advance from the upstairs could be heard long before he breached the entry into the common room. Volatile swears of rather impressive merit in their creativity and general revolting content filtered down the corridor. Reggie's jaw dropped at the sight of the angry mallard. It wasn't so much the depth of loathing in Jack's eyes that struck him, but the disheveled mess of flaming hair obscuring the angry orbs. The bright red strands framed furious eyes, giving the dark mood a more menacing quality. It was not the first time Reggie had seen Jack without one of his customary hats, but it was an extremely rare occurrence and he was sure he would never get used to the sight.

"Bud," Jack growled— the fact that he was grinding his teeth extremely obvious as he spoke, "Make me a drink. And it had BETTER be strong… and fruity."

"Strong and fruity. Just the way you like your men, eh Jacky?" Bud asked with a slight snicker.

"Damn right," Jack replied simply.

Bud chuckled at the reply, throwing a moist arm around the sulking mallard and leading him from the room. "Whatever you want babes."

Reggie certainly didn't mind at all when Bud ran off with the fuming musician. He found Jack uncomfortable to be around when he was acting normal, but on the rare occasions when he was truly furious it was just plain terrifying to him. Bud seemed to have the strange talent of calming the fiery jester.

Reggie had been sitting in silence, smoking and just staring out the window at the firelight dancing across the inky clouds in the city when his solitude was interrupted yet again. He hardly noticed when Elmo entered the room. Only the muted sound of steel toes clinking slowly and softly on the ground alerted him to the other's presence. The miserable rodent looked dejected and defeated as he trudged towards him. The wires usually hanging from his body were absent giving Reggie a rare glimpse of the six metal inputs into his nervous system. The small, circular ports were each surrounded by a slim radius of scared skin, the areas unable to grow hair. Elmo dropped himself exhaustedly into the cushions beside Reggie, hiding the scars from view once again. Things were silent for a few moments before Elmo finally tipped his head towards Reggie.

"Hey Reg," he said quietly.

"…yeah Mo?"

"Hook a brother up with some cancer."

The smile Reggie produced in reply was small and brief but sincere nonetheless. He pulled two cigarettes from his recently acquired pack, lighting them both before handing one over to the stressed mammal. Elmo inhaled deeply, letting the smoke billow slowly from his muzzle and nose.

"Yeeeah that hits the spot," he muttered, eyes slipping closed in his relief.

Reggie smiled again.

Several more silent moments passed as the two smoked before Elmo spoke again. "Thanks," he said simply.

"Don't mention it."

The reply was almost immediately followed by an unexpected answer from Elmo. The crazed rodent's eyes widened at the complaint of his hungry midsection, almost unable to believe that it had actually come from him. Reggie cocked a brow at the comical grumble, resisting the amused smile that tried to snake across his face.

"Uuuugh," Elmo groaned, rubbing at his stomach with both hands. "Wow, I don't usually say this… but I am SUPER hungry," he muttered.

Reggie rubbed his chin briefly in thought at the comment before lifting himself from the rough sofa. "Well, now. I think I can fix that," he answered.

He couldn't deny enjoying the toothy grin Elmo produced in response. It would never cease to amaze him how much he actually enjoyed the other guitarist's company. He shook his head as he turned to lead the way to the kitchen.

_Dangerous thoughts Reggie. Dangerous thoughts. _

* * *

><p>Despite the naturally sullen nature Reggie usually displayed, there was one thing he couldn't deny: he actually rather enjoyed to cook. It was one of many random skills he had picked up along his travels, but it was one of the few that he actually got any enjoyment out of. Of course, up until only a few weeks earlier he didn't have a reason to do any cooking in the manor. A number of trials had since made it very clear that he could no longer eat normal food, but no matter how much sun and soil helped he had still been craving more sustenance.<p>

He couldn't help being put off by the idea of ingesting the moist soil at first, but the more he had rubbed the dark earth between his fingers, the more the normally repugnant smell filled his senses, the greater the desire to consume the dirt had grown. The taste was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. It was undeniably earthy yet almost sweet like sugar, and it had quickly become a flavor he couldn't get enough of. He soon took to mixing the fertilizer with normal foods, trying to recapture the flavor of some of his favorite things to eat. The cooking created a repulsive odor to most, of that Reggie was sure. He'd gotten complaints about it from both Jack and Negaduck more than once, but to him it smelled like a slice of heaven and thanks to Elmo's poor sinuses he didn't much notice the smell at all. Reggie had to admit the rodent's presence in the kitchen was somewhat pleasing. He found he rather enjoyed having the other around to keep him company as he went about making food for them both—even if Elmo did have the odd tendency to start muttering to the appliances.

The more time he spent around the absentminded mammal, the more obvious it became that he was so much younger than the rest of the band. In a lot of ways Reggie suspected he was mentally younger than he truly was anyway. That was what really made his electrical genius so very impressive. It was such a strange and oddly intimate contradiction to the rest of his nature, and for some reason, it seemed to be part of what Reggie liked most about him.

"Oh my _God_, this is so fucking amazing," Elmo practically moaned as he bit into the latest culinary delight that the other had set before him.

Reggie had made everything from soups to soufflés, driving the resident voltage addict into an eating binge the likes of which he had never experienced in his life. Reggie couldn't help the small smirk that settled on his face at the other's words. He couldn't deny that he'd been having fun over the past two hours making all his favorite old foods for Elmo, and with so many ovens and supplies available to him he was able to amass an impressive selection of delicacies for the picky rodent. And make some fertilizer-inspired treats for himself while he was at it. The latter was what drew a still sullen, loud-mouthed mallard and his watery consort to the kitchen.

"CHRIST it smells like shit in here!" Jack griped, nose curling in repulsion the moment they entered the room.

"Probably cause Reggie's cookin' with crap," Elmo mumbled around his mouthful of food as Jack dropped himself in the chair beside him.

"And yet, this is the only thing that _doesn't_ taste like shit to me," Reggie added, slipping into his own seat as he set his latest muddy creation on the table.

"Smells normal to me," Bud added matter-of-factly as he flowed past them to acquire more fruity ingredients to concoct another drink for the still pouting mallard behind him.

"Oh, whadda you know?" Jack mumbled, "You can't even smell." For a moment he just sat there sulking, chin resting on his hands and displeased look still stuck on his face before a glance to his side finally seemed to lift his mood a bit. "Well," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair to stare at his happily munching companion, "I guess I can't complain too much if you got Mo to stuff his face like this."

"Damn right!" Elmo replied excitedly, voice still muffled by his stuffed cheeks. "He's a better cook than cook is!"

"The cook is named cook?" Reggie inquired, cocking a brow at them.

"No, that's just what his dumb ass calls him," Jack replied, "He just refers to all the servants by what they do."

Reggie hummed softly in reply, observing the two guitarists wordlessly for a moment. He was surprised at how grateful he was that the jester had replaced his trademark hat. It was somehow extremely disconcerting seeing Jack 'all natural', and having him wearing his more vibrant red and blue cranial accessory was a relief. He had even changed the usual black and white stripes normally covering his arms and legs to ones with a more colorful blend of purples. Reggie snorted slightly at the wardrobe change. Now if only he would just put on a shirt.

"Hehhe," Elmo laughed nasally as he noted the other man's colorful state, "You are soo breaking the color rule right now. Negs is gonna beat your fine ass if he catches ya."

"Pfft, Negs can _suck_ my foot long. I don't give a shit right now. I want my fuckin' colors!"

"Well, just be careful Jack," Bud said as he returned with some blue-tinted and fruit filled intoxicant for the guitarist. "You're only allowed to be colorful at parties."

"Well, I now declare this a party," Jack grumbled, taking his fresh drink from the dripping dog with one hand and reaching into his pocket with the other to produce a handful of confetti. He threw it into the air, the festive feel of the raining bits of colorful paper turning somewhat sour when coupled with the angry pout on his face.

Bud shook his head in bemusement at the moping man child; he was quite accustomed to Jack's severe mood swings. He knew the jester would be back to his normal self before too long, but the potential fury that was hidden just beneath the bubbly surface was often unsettling even to him. The drummer didn't even the chance to produce a reply before the bane of their existence decided that they'd had enough peace for one day.

"BUSHROOT!" Negaduck's angry voice bellowed from down the hall, "What the fuck have I told you about cooking that shit in my house?!"

Reggie swallowed his mouthful of earthy food nervously, eyes shifting back and forth as though searching for the cruel mallard. He practically jumped out of his skin when the singer appeared briefly in the doorway, fists clenched in rage.

"GET OUT HERE NOW!" he roared curtly before turning back down the hall. "ALL of you!"

Jack fumed at the annoyed yell. He was all too aware that the last part pertained to him in particular, and it only made him less eager to be in the other bird's presence. Elmo practically had to drag him from his seat to get him to follow, Jack refusing to leave before obtaining another drink to accompany him. He was unwilling to even fully enter the room when they arrived, still stubbornly refusing to being anywhere near Negaduck.

"Get your cock-loving ass in here Faggot before I drag it in here!" the singer snapped at him when he realized the rhythmist was still hovering by the door.

The still moping mallard didn't even bother sitting, he just stood against the far wall, arms crossed and displeased frown firmly planted on his face. It was obvious he was attempting to remain as far from the shorter duck as possible.

"Alright ladies, listen up," Negaduck grumbled, pacing back and forth in front of them as he tried to sort out his own thoughts. "SO… everyone keeps bitching about being stuck here and since you are all WAY too annoying even when you're _not_ bitching," he actually paused to groan, rubbing between his eyes to try and lessen his headache's assault. "I'll let you have a fucking party."

Jack and Elmo shared a happy glance before throwing their hands into the air excitedly.

"Party!"

"Don't celebrate yet assholes, you haven't heard the conditions."

"Awwwww," they whined in unison.

Negaduck turned angry eyes on them, snarling at the annoying complaints as he made his way to the small bar situated near them. "Shut up!" he snapped, pulling a bottle of randomly selected alcohol from one of the bars many shelves. He didn't bother with a glass, opting instead to just take a long drink straight from the bottle before continuing.

"First of all we are NOT leaving. We'll have the damn party here. Those assholes can come to me. SECOND, you," he said pointing at Reggie, "and ESPECIALLY you," he continued turning on Elmo, "Need to FIX your fucking parts first! And you had sure as hell better convince me that you know them well enough to not fuck things up for me tomorrow! Then you can have your goddamn party," he finished, dropping his head none too gently on the short bar where he had just sat.

Jack and Elmo stayed silent for a moment, almost as though they were assuring that Negaduck had finished, before producing yet another tandem response.

"PARTY!"

Negaduck groaned at the elated and annoyingly childish cries. He was starting to regret his kindness already.

"I am _way_ too good to you dickholes."

Jack had already moved from his spot against the wall and was concocting his own drink from the selections at the bar where Negaduck sat. "Oh yeah you're a real doll Neggers," he muttered darkly, jumping onto the counter and crossing his legs as he swirled his new drink.

The annoyed singer lifted his head to snarl at the other, bill curling in disgust as he seemed to finally notice the currently bare state of most of Jack's person. "Will you put some fucking clothes on!" he griped, turning his back to the bar so that he could rest his elbows on the surface behind him.

Jack sneered immaturely at the other duck, making faces behind his back once he was no longer paying attention.

Bud resisted the urge to chuckle at the spectacle. "Face it Jacky, you're just too affectionate for Negs," he said teasingly, trying to break some of the tension in the room; he never did like having to face serious situations.

"How can you consider _anything_ he does affection?" Reggie questioned grumpily.

Bud shrugged indifferently in response. "I've rather come to enjoy Jack's unique brand of affection."

"Damn right you have Buddy boy," Jack purred lustily, winking suggestively at him.

Elmo's eyes widened at this, glancing from Jack to Bud and back over and over as his mind struggled to put the pieces together. "Wait," he finally said, lifting a genuinely confused brow. "You've fucked Bud?!"

Jack's rolled his eyes at the question: it was not the first time it had been asked. "Baby you've walked in on me fucking Bud at _least_ twice. You just never remember it."

"That's just plain repulsive," Negaduck growled, "I thought you had more fucking pride drip face."

Bud fumed slightly at the contemptuous statement, gaze narrowing irately. "Oh right, and raise your hand if you _haven't_ fucked Quack," he said with a roll of his eyes.

The comment immediately elicited a displeased groan from Negaduck. "Okay, new rule," he growled, dropping his pounding head back onto the table top. "No one is EVER allowed to remind me that I've been anywhere near the faggot's cock again!"

The seriousness in his tone couldn't stop the impish and amused grin from painting Elmo's face. "Don't always have to be standing _too_ close to be near Jack's cock," he muttered softly, unable to keep his snickers at bay.

Jack burst out laughing, holding his fruity drink to the side to keep it from spilling. Negaduck growled gutturally in response to the amused cackles, removing his head from the hard surface it was resting on to give Jack a sharp punch in the jaw.

"Oowww! What'd the fuck you hit ME for?!" Jack griped, rubbing at his face angrily, "I didn't even DO anything this time."

Negaduck snickered evilly. "Yeah, but you are _way_ more satisfying to hit."

Jack glanced at the smirking singer. It was obvious that for once he was actually thinking about his actions.

"You like hittin' on me Negsy?" he finally asked, obviously deciding against the voice of reason in his head.

The second time he took a large bottle to the face.

"Uuuuh! Will you all LEAVE so I can rest in peaceful misery?!" Negaduck growled as the other duck rolled on the ground in pain.

The entire band perked up at the request. The four shared a silent glance, the recognition of the common thought evident between them. They wasted little time making good on the demand, each slipping quickly from the room; none of them cared where they ended up as long as it was away from the softly snarling mallard behind them.

The reprieve lasted only so long, Negaduck seeking each of them out at least once to hound them to fix something or make sure everything would go well the next day. Despite the continued harassment, the unruly singer soon had himself locked away once again as he finalized the fruits of their labor, leaving the exhausted musicians with some semblance of peace and quiet. The few hours of downtime found the four congregating together in the devil room. The two resident mutants were situated together much as they had been earlier that morning, Bud getting a jumpstart on the night's inebriation and Reggie sitting beside him plucking quietly at his bass. As much as Reggie had been attempting to avoid them all, Jack's constant pestering had quickly convinced him to give up the battle. He found he didn't mind too much though. Now that Jack was calmer at least. The jester was sitting with his favorite band mate between his knees, teasing the rodent's spiked hair into a mohawk. Elmo just seemed to be enjoying the contact, tail wagging slowly back and forth on the floor and his fingers still strumming at his guitar as Jack doted on him.

"Ugh, your hair is so oily," Jack griped, finally breaking the quiet mood that had been surrounding them, "You haven't been bathing have you? You _know_ are REQUIRED to take weekly baths at _least_!" he scolded as he stared in disgust at his own fingers.

"I already had my baths this week," Elmo retorted in a childish, mocking tone.

Reggie couldn't help but snort slightly at the way the guitarist stuck his tongue out as he said it.

Jack sighed indignantly at his uncooperative companion. "Fuckin' HELL you're a little brat sometimes."

"Am _nooot_!" Elmo whined back, plucking swiftly at his guitar strings in his frustration.

"Ah, give him a break Jack. Not like it's gonna fall out if you go one day without primping him," Bud chuckled, his slight drunkenness already showing.

"HA! Do you know what it takes for me to keep this idiot's hair this luscious and soft?" the rhythmist retorted, burying his fingers deep into the thick hair.

The skillful digits slipped through the strands, massaging the rodent's scalp and making his back arch with pleasure. Elmo quickly forgot the brief spat, spine shuddering in response and guitar practically falling from his grip at the talented stroking.

"Besides, he absolutely _adooores_ this part," Jack finished with a purr, staring amorously at his blissful companion.

Reggie cocked a surprised brow at the unexpectedly intimate display. The heat in his cheeks alerted him to the uncomfortable blush that was just starting to paint his face, giving him his cue to leave. He slipped swiftly from the couch, making an inconspicuous escape to the balcony. Not that his attempted stealth really did anything. The two guitarists were hardly paying him any mind; they had much better things to do, and the only other occupant was all too aware of his actions. He always was.

Bud didn't hesitate when Reggie made his way from the room, slipping quickly through the still slightly open balcony door. By the time he stepped fully out behind the bassist, the mallard had already lit up a cigarette and was staring off across the city. It was all too apparent that the other didn't notice him. He was tipping his head into the wind, eyes slipping closed at the soft, refreshing feeling of the evening breeze. Bud's mouth opened slightly as he stared at the unaware bassist, savoring the way the light of the setting sun struggled through the layers of smog to spread fiery rays across his face and hair. Even the way the light wind was ruffling his purple petals was strangely arousing. He blamed it on the alcohol.

He wasn't sure how much more he could take.

For once it was Bud that was caught off guard when the other mutant quickly spun around. He smiled somewhat stupidly at the small look of triumph on Reggie's face. There wasn't anything he could think of to say. It didn't really seem necessary anyway. He slipped over smoothly to join the duck where he stood, dripping forearms resting against the balcony edge so that he could observe the dimming horizon with him. The oranges and reds painted the sky in a burning display that almost promised the hectic night that was to follow. Reggie tried to ignore the heavy beat of his heart that had been plaguing him all day, but collective cries of thousands of eager, destructive fans made the task very difficult. Bud could almost feel the other's inner turmoil as he watched Reggie stare into the distance; all at once it was as though he could see exactly what was going on in the trembling bird's head.

"Why are you here Reg?" he questioned softly.

They'd all been thinking it, but any time the question came up Reggie would just ignore it.

"Being in the spotlight ain't exactly your thing."

A long moment passed before Reggie answered. It was obvious that he was a little unsure what to say.

"Guess I just wanted to be famous for a change," he finally said.

Bud snorted loudly at the obviously deceitful explanation. "Bullshit."

"Look, I just thought it might be nice to know where my next meal was coming from for a while. For people to _not_ treat me like dirt. For the world NOT to shit on me for once!" the increasingly distraught mallard retorted, turning annoyed eyes on the other mutant. He paused the rant for a moment as he tried to collect himself, taking time to inhale deeply from the smoldering cigarette in his hand. "And what do I get?"

"Negs," Bud replied, unable to resist a slight chuckle.

"Negs," Reggie muttered irately. "No matter where I go or what I do I end up with the worst possible outcome. Story of my life."

Bud's entire body went cold at the mention of the worst possible outcome. Reggie had no idea the situation he'd truly led himself into this time. The drummer's depression was suddenly back full force.

"What?"

Bud was taken aback by the question. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he had nearly forgotten the other was there at all.

"I didn't say anything," he answered uncertainly.

"Doesn't mean there isn't something you keep wanting to tell me."

"There's nothing to tell," Bud muttered unconvincingly, turning his eyes away from the mutant mallard as though to keep him from reading the deception in the watery pools.

"You're such a fucking liar," Reggie grumbled darkly in response.

"Hey, I don't lie!" Bud snapped defensively, "I just… conveniently forget to mention things sometimes."

Reggie snorted irately at the lame justification, suddenly very annoyed at the water-dog. "Oh, right, like you _conveniently _forgot to mention that only CHICKS call you Buddy right?" he retorted, narrowed eyes turning on the dripping dog.

Bud's entire body stiffened. He had been wondering why Reggie had stopped using the name. He produced the only excuse he could think of.

"Jack calls me Buddy."

Blue eyes narrowed at the answer. "Too late, I already went there."

Bud was lost for words. He didn't even know why it bothered him so much that the mallard now knew the truth—aside from the fact that it meant Reggie would no longer be using the name.

"Well it's not like it even means anything!" Bud finally replied, still attempting to defend himself. "It's not a big deal," he grumbled, crossing watery arms over his chest

Reggie shook his head at him, turning back to the darkening landscape. "That's exactly what I'm fucking talking about," he muttered. "You're lying to me right now."

"Look it's just something I associate with affection, alright!" Bud yelled, finally tiring of the accusations.

He paused as the realization of what he had just revealed sunk in. A heavy sigh sounded at the unintentional baring of his heart, resigning the fluid canine to complete his thought.

"Even if it is shallow affection," he finished softly.

Reggie was unsure how to react. He just stared at the suddenly depressed and slightly slumping drummer. As much as he'd been trying to ignore that there was a deeper side to the seemingly easygoing dog, at moments such as that it was impossible to ignore. Did the watery mammal really desire his friendship that badly? He sighed indignantly at the melodramatic display, gathering his thoughts to respond. Before he had the chance, the roared summons of their leader drew them once again back into the manor. Reggie couldn't help but notice how grateful for the interruption Bud was. Somehow the drummer's constant attempts to keep his own guises in place were becoming very annoying. He sighed heavily as he followed the other's wet trail.

Back inside, Bud had already situated himself beside Jack and Elmo, waiting for whatever spiteful yelling Negaduck was there to deliver this time.

"Well ladies," the singer said once they were all accounted for, "it was more of a pain in the ass than you could POSSIBLY imagine… but you have finally managed to produce something that _doesn't_ make me want to tear my own eardrums out."

A collective sigh of relief sounded at the news. The soft noise seemed to agitate Negaduck somewhat, but it didn't stop the sinister half-grin that his bill was soon supporting.

"Now the _real_ fun can begin."

* * *

><p>The ruthless pound of metal music, the hazy layer of smoke slowly filling the space, the heated entanglement of dozens of bodies all around the room: these were all sure signs of yet another party courtesy of St. Canard's most imposing residents.<p>

The hours found Reggie mostly isolated from the rest. He had been trying very hard to remain aloof as the party preceded, eventually making himself essentially invisible to the increasingly intoxicated mass of metal fans around him. Nervous fingers tilted the glass in his hands lightly as he watched the various groups littering the room, the amber liquid inside swaying gently as the vessel was tipped back and forth. No matter how interesting some of the congregations were, he couldn't seem to stop himself from watching a certain watery canine. Bud was captivating to observe. The beaming smiles that kept slipping across his face caught Reggie's attention more than anything: so false in the shadow of the true emotion that seemed to be showing through. Reggie was suddenly very curious how no one else seemed to notice the blatant lie the expression was truly telling them. In that moment, he found himself so drawn into observing the dog from a distance, so lost in all the little things he'd never seemed to notice before, that he was quite unaware when another soft-spoken and solitary-seeking bird slipped over to join him.

"He's fascinating to watch, isn't he?"

Reggie jumped at the soft question, clutching his chest and breathing a sigh of relief when he noticed it was only Darla.

"Hmm," Reggie hummed uncertainly in reply.

The aging duck smiled gently at him, placing a slim, unlit cigarette in her bill. Reggie glanced to the lighter in his hand, lifting it so that she could use the now burning flame to lite the slender cylinder. He watched in captivation at the way the strands of smoke seemed to dance around the mature beauty, taking his eyes off her only when a loud round of unruly laughter brought his attention back to the drummer he had been observing.

He rolled his eyes in amusement at the two dogs. "Well, he certainly is interesting to watch when he's with Benny that's for sure."

Darla chuckled softly, offering no other reply as she waited for him to continue. Reggie was a bit uncertain how he planned to respond at first, the conflicting string of emotion that crossed his face transparently visible to the other bird as he opened his bill hesitantly to answer her.

"I guess I just never really noticed…" he trailed off, thinking for a moment, "how little of himself he really lets people see… you know?"

Darla stared at him thoughtfully for a moment, genuinely intrigued by the question. "Heh, Benny and Buddy. What a pair they do make." She chuckled slightly at the thought of the two mammalian miscreants. "Well, they _are_ pretty much the same you know. Both charming, attractive and talented men, hiding behind those happy façades and trying to drown their troubles in their favorite inebriating libations… I suppose they're both just caught in a vain and desperate fight for that haze of euphoric reality that is all simply an illusion. But then, aren't we all?" she finished with a lighthearted laugh.

Reggie couldn't help but find her behavior that night as somewhat odd; not that he was going to mention it.

"What's your role in all this?" he finally questioned, his voice barely audible above the brutal barrage of music still filling the room.

Darla seemed somewhat shocked by the uncharacteristic boldness of the question. The timid mutant was not normally one to be too interested in asking any questions let alone one that might lead to information he didn't really want to know.

"Hmm, well that is a complicated question," she replied, "but I suppose the simple answer is that I own the company that signed them. Benny was my partner… Dear Benjamin and I, partners in greed and partners in guilt for letting lose that maniacal menace on the world."

The soft and eerily pleased laughs that Darla produced at the thought made Reggie shudder; he'd never been quite so shaken by the elder duck. All at once, the outer kindness gave way to the ruthless, gruesome business woman that was truly hidden just below the surface. Darla rather liked the chaos, and it suddenly showed very clearly.

"Legally we are the ones that have control, but he owns us all Reginald," she finally finished as her chortles quieted. "I suppose Benny always felt far more regret about it than I did. Part of why he drinks after all. But then, I imagine that's truly my fault. I was desperate for someone to share my success and burden with and he was so very talented… and so young."

She trailed off as the memories filled her thoughts, her eyes seeking out her younger business partner. The distant, almost dreamy look was a shock to Reggie. Her memories were suddenly so apparent on her face that he could almost read exactly what they said.

"So young," she finished softly.

All at once, it was so obvious: the depth of emotion and insanity contained within the lovely bird, her relationship with her much younger business partner, the extent of her role in the current condition of St. Canard, _all_ her memories of times long passed. A silence fell between them as Darla produced another cigarette, lighting it with her dying one and tipping her head back as she inhaled slowly and deeply from it.

Reggie shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to react at first. "Well, what about Jake?" he asked at last— compelled to break the unsettling silence more than anything.

"Oh, he is an interesting story," Darla chucked in reply. "He was their first bassist you know."

The response quickly elicited a shocked expression from the man beside her.

"You heard me green-stuff. First one ever. And he's the only one you will find alive today," she paused, gaze returning to where her chuckling companion was still taking shots with Bud. "I honestly don't know exactly what happened to him," she finally continued, "but he has never been the same since."

"… what do you mean?" Reggie asked nervously.

Darla turned a thoughtful eye to him momentarily as she thought over her reply. "That man is a devourer of souls Reginald… Keep an eye on yours lest you become an empty husk like the rest of us." Her grin returned. "At this point we are just content to simply live under his rule," she added, raising her glass as though toasting to their demented, red-eyed ruler. "Jake, me, and of course my dear Benjamin," she finished, staring passionately at the handsome canine.

As though he could feel her gaze, Benny's eyes were soon upon them, stupid grin slipping across his face and drunken legs leading him their way.

"Speak of the devil," Darla purred, her voice once again smooth as silk. "Benny dearest!" She called happily to the approaching canine.

"Darla, Darla! My darling, darling Darla," Benny sang with a slur as he staggered gracelessly towards his old friend and lover. He wrapped an arm around her waist, the action serving to hold him upright as much as acting as a show of affection. "Ya wanna know sometin'?" he slurred, "An I don care if it sounds totally cliché, especially comin' from a drunk person n' all, but I freakin', _love _you. Seriously! I don't throw tha word around every day."

"Oh, I know you don't darling. That is why I adore you so much," the aging duck replied, rubbing a finger playfully beneath his chin.

"I friggin' love when yur sappy," Benny replied, unable to resist the chortling fit that hit him as his very favorite friend lead him away.

Reggie shook his head at their departure, trying to ignore the unsettling feelings still stirring within him. His mind was reeling from what Darla had said. She had produced more question than she had provided answers that was for sure, and it was undeniably unsettling. He suddenly needed another drink very badly.

From across the room, watery pools eyed him as he moved. Robbed of the distraction of his boisterous, inebriated friend, Bud was having a very difficult time not getting lost in the leafy vision making his way stealthily across the room. Even though Bud had been keeping his distance that night, he couldn't keep his wandering eyes from continually seeking the other out. The watery orbs hungered for the sight, begging for relief from the deep incurable yearning that only the moody mallard could state. There was never a moment he didn't ache to be in the other's presence, and it was increasingly worrying to him. Behind the enamored thoughts and burning heat that Reggie's presence filled him with lurked the darker knowledge that something horrible would happen. It ate away at him, festering inside and nagging at his deepest feelings no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

Bud was not alone in being plagued with such thoughts. Reggie had become so used to the drummer hanging around him all the time that he was near panicked by the group of fans surrounding him. He hated to admit how much more uncomfortable he had been that night without Bud nearby. He didn't like to think that he was craving the other's company, but no matter how hard he tried, staring at the fresh glass of liquor in front of him was not sufficient to keep the thoughts at bay. Luckily for him there was a far more ample source of distraction making its way towards him.

The loud, drunken bickering that drifted his way announced the approach as the two guitarists moved closer. Reggie cringed slightly at the shrill sound of Jack's shouts chasing the pouting rodent currently retreating away from him. The jester was having little luck getting Elmo to respond and it was obviously becoming increasingly annoying. It wasn't until the pair was only a few feet away from Reggie that his childish griping finally seemed to have the desired effect.

"Well maybe just ONCE it'd be nice to go out and NOT have to watch you offer sex to _every_ man in sight!" Elmo screamed, gaining the attention of anyone in the near vicinity that wasn't completely trashed.

"What do you want from me?" Jack replied heatedly, "I _do_ have needs Sparky."

This seemed to snap a rare cord within the agitated rodent, his entire body stiffening at the answer. "NEEDS?!" he yelled, "I spend 80 percent of every DAY fulfilling your NEEDS and you're trying to tell me you're more interested in all of them than just me?!"

Jack crossed his arms over his chest, pouting expression displaying the fact that he didn't want to admit what he really felt. "Pfft, you're just another piece of ass baby," he grumbled.

"Oh, _please_! Name one ass you want more than mine."

"_Oooh_, you _really_ wanna know whose tail I've been wanting more than YOURS, do ya?" Jack replied darkly.

He sought out Reggie's location almost immediately, terrifying look filling his eyes as he quickly crossed the space between them. Reggie was instantly petrified; he didn't like the aggressively playful look at all. The shocked mutant didn't even have a chance to react before he was pushed forcefully against the wall behind him, his neglected drink falling to the ground with a shatter.

There were several things Reggie learned immediately: Jack was stronger than he looked, and he had an extremely long tongue. He practically gagged as the slippery appendage slid deep into his mouth, attempting to tease his own slick muscle into a spirited battle. There was a certain sick sinking of his gut as the realization hit him that his first kiss had just been stolen from him—by _Jack_ of all people. He tried to ignore how upset the thought made him. A glance in Elmo's direction only served to increase his discontent. Even behind the dark lenses, it was difficult to miss the desire-hazed look in the frazzled rodent's eyes, the possessive lust welling within him clearly displayed on his face. He couldn't just stand by and watch the spectacle for long. Reggie struggled harder when Elmo joined the groping, desperate to get away before he was pulled into a forced threesome. The rodent almost immediately latched onto Jack's neck, biting aggressively along the feathery flesh as his hands roamed the familiar form. A soft moan from the guitarist in his grip was proof enough that he enjoyed the forceful behavior: it was what his entire outburst had been attempting to elicit in the first place.

Reggie wasn't sure how or when but Jack soon had the long coat covering his body hiked up to his waist, feathery fingers groping his woody backside and twining between his tail leaves while his partner in crime held him firmly in place. He was almost too shocked to react beyond fighting against the furry hands pinning his wrists against the wall. He finally managed to force his sharp talons against the other bird's exposed abdomen, pushing Jack away with his foot and ducking past the insane duo. Jack hardly even seemed to notice his hasty retreat, spinning around immediately after the other pulled away to force his voltage-driven companion into a bruising kiss. Elmo's legs gave out under the needy embrace, the two falling to the floor in a jumbled pile. The eager guitarist flipped them over quickly so he had the other pinned beneath him, his tail flipping around in the air energetically as he groped his lover. They had little interest in Reggie at that point.

Not too far away, Bud had been watching the display with furious eyes, fluid burning in his anger. There was something in Reggie's horrified expression that revealed secrets beyond the blatant disgust produced by the actual person that was kissing him. It was something Reggie had never experienced before at all: it was his first kiss. The one that Bud hadn't even entirely realized he'd been craving to take for himself. Reggie was quite oblivious to the drummer's inner turmoil. The thoroughly shaken bassist had quickly relocated to the extensive bar and was now downing the premixed beverages at a disconcerting rate. When the already available drinks ran out he began to search frantically for the strongest alcohol he could get his leafy hands on.

"Looking for something special Reginald dear?"

Slightly widened eyes turned to the bird, blinking stupidly at her for a moment. Reggie swallowed his mouthful of alcohol sheepishly at the lovely female's abrupt appearance, shuddering none too becomingly at the burn of the liquor.

"Yeah," he finally answered, his voice slightly hoarse from the alcohol abuse. "Whatever gets the taste of hooker-clown spit out of your mouth the best."

"Hmmm," Sapphire hummed in thought, slipping sensually closer and pushing down the latest glass Reggie had grabbed as he lifted it to his bill. "Well, I don't know about a drink, but I know something_ better_ that will get that taste off your tongue."

Reggie swallowed audibly when the soft sentence was followed by the gentle contact of silky feathers on his chin. His heart felt as though it might pound right through his chest at the obvious intent of her actions. Total panic took over.

Reggie had never been too eloquent with any form of desire. For the most part he preferred to ignore that he even had such feelings. But he was an animal after all, and even with his more recent plant-like disposition he was still an animal, and he still had such feelings. The thought only served to shake the nervous bassist even more. The fact that he had no idea what he was doing combined with the knowledge that anyone could be watching made him chicken out despite what he wanted.

"I-I gotta go," he stammered breathlessly, falling gracelessly away from the alluring bird and rushing off towards the large staircase and the promise of solitude that it represented.

Sapphire licked at her bill as he turned away from her, his resistance only making her hunger for him more. She pulled out the small mirror nestled within her clutch, fluffing her hair and straightening her dress to give him a small head start before pursuing leisurely.

From across the room, liquid eyes were still watching, a torrent of anger brewing behind them. A realm of emotion barely held back over the last few months was steadily slipping from Bud's control, and as he watched the lovely bird slip after his companion a surge of possessiveness welled inside him. He knew what would happen if he allowed them to be alone; he knew what would happen, and it made his blood boil. A cord snapped. A barely audible but guttural growl sounded in his feral frustration as he slipped to the floor and flowed silently after them.

Reggie was barely paying attention as he slipped through the dark passageway that led to their rooms, images of perfect curves and gorgeous eyes haunting him as he ran. He didn't give it a second thought as he slipped into the first room with an open door that he came upon. Alone in the chamber, he willed his drunken mind to clear, pressing his back against the heavy door and breathing deeply to try and calm his racing heart.

"Great Reggie, let _Jack_ get your first kiss and then run away from the bombshell." Blue eyes rolled and a heavy sigh sound at his own pathetic actions.

He snorted after a glance around the room told him he hadn't even gone to the right place. Even through the shadows, it was quite simple to distinguish Bud's room from his own. Reggie grunted in annoyance, pushing himself away from the door and wandering towards the captivating indigo drum set currently glittering in the moonlight. There was something about it that seemed to draw him close: a resemblance to the dog himself that instilled a similar state of fascination in the mutant mallard. He couldn't resist the desire to stroke his fingers along the shimmering blue surface, the feeling making him shudder inexplicably. He was so lost in the tantalizing patterns along the sleek surface that he didn't even notice when the door behind him opened, his slightly drunken mind completely oblivious to the soft sound of heels against the floor.

"That wasn't very nice you know Reginald," the breathy voice sounded from behind him, bringing bright blue eyes to focus immediately on the provocative avian now staring at him. "Gives a girl the wrong idea when you run off like that," Sapphire continued, slipping slowly closer to Reggie as he moved away from the drum set. "Don't you think I'm beautiful?" she whined, mock hurt in her voice as she batted her eyelashes pathetically at him.

"Fuck yes," Reggie breathed, eyes wandering down her form.

His voice was barely audible, but Sapphire heard him nonetheless. A deep flush painted Reggie's face when he realized what he had just said. And that she just heard it. Her look quickly turned from playful teasing to a satisfied smirk.

"Oh, _really_?" she purred.

Slender fingers slid behind her neck, pulling at the slim strings on her dress. With a simple and fluid slip of her fingers the thin tie keeping her large chest contained was released, the silken fabric slipping in tantalizing ripples down to her waist. Reggie's eyes bulged at the reveal of the gorgeous body. Sapphire couldn't resist the soft giggles she produced at the stunned expression on Reggie's face, relishing the dazed and obviously aroused look he produced at the unexpected exposure of the supple, ivory breasts. Reggie had never seen a naked woman outside of a magazine and it was a sight he couldn't deny enjoying immensely. It showed quite clearly and it was just the sort of ego boost that only made Sapphire hotter. She rather enjoyed that he couldn't take his eyes off her chest meat as she slipped closer.

"It's not very nice to stand up a lady like that Reginald," she continued, advancing on the frozen bassist. "I think you need to make it up to me," she finished, swiping a finger teasingly down the exposed part of Reggie's chest and pulling at his coat to uncover more of the green flesh.

Reggie was too dumbstruck to respond beyond allowing the tantalizing bird to push him backwards until his knees gave way when they hit the side of the nearby bed. He stared stupidly at Sapphire, jaw hanging open and heart pounding wildly. Her sultry stare held Reggie's own gaze captive, keeping him from noticing when she began slipping her skirt higher. It certainly didn't take him long to register the lack of undergarments against his currently bare thigh. Sapphire relished in the shocked expression and dark blush that followed, leaning in closer at the reaction.

"Touch me Reginald," she whispered, her soft breath brushing against Reggie's bill as she spoke.

The timid mallard swallowed audibly in response. He glanced down at the exposed lower half seated in his lap, reaching his hands out uncertainly. Lightly quivering digits hovered just shy of touching the soft, curvy backside. Reggie bit at his bottom bill as his nerves failed him, his uncertainty taking over full force. Sapphire would have none of that. Feathered fingers gripped his hands swiftly, forcing them the rest of the way to her enticing rear. Her fingers were downy soft, the silken feathers leaving a sensation of tingling delight against Reggie's own appendages. The round cheeks now clenched beneath his hands increased the pleasure of the sensation tenfold. Reggie trembled harder at the new experience, his blush spreading until his entire face shone deep green with proof of his uncertainty and excitement. It made Sapphire's entire body hot with desire.

"Has anyone ever told you that you turn the most _delectable_ shade of emerald when you're nervous?" she purred, leaning in close enough that the very tip of her beak touched his.

Reggie shifted his eyes away at the question, his already green tint only deepening in his embarrassment. It was exactly what Sapphire had wanted. She laughed lightly at the other's inexperience and general discomfort. Despite his uncertainty, the heavy pound of Reggie's heart against her bare bosom and the tentative curling of his leaves against her toned backside were more than proof of what he wanted. The beguiling vixen loved nothing more than making men lust for her so badly. And she knew Reggie wanted her.

A sharp slam shattered the silence, shocking both birds and bringing their gaze to the furious watery form now standing in the entryway. There was no denying the bubbling fury that welled within Bud at the sight before him. The stunning seductress with his moody love obsession beneath her, Reggie's hands still pressed beneath her dress, only increasing his irrational anger. The snarl he produced at the scene left them both shocked from more than just getting caught. Sapphire was the first to recover, straightening her back and resting her hands against Reggie's torso for support as she addressed the shuddering canine.

"Why hello there cool lips," She purred, hiding her slight annoyance behind her usual sensual tone. "Come to join us did you?"

The teasing was not sufficient to hide the fact that she was not actually in the mood to share her blushing virgin.

"Get out," Bud murmured, watery teeth clenched against his internal fury.

"Well now Buddy darling, I've never known you to be quite so rude. What's the matter? Feeling left out?"

Sapphire knew what had brought him there and it had nothing to do with her. She'd seen his possessiveness from the beginning, and it had obviously grown. Bud didn't answer right away. He was too busy glaring at the cause of his heavy heart, the alcohol clouding his mind and holding back all but his feelings of frustration. The months of longing and desperate desire were all pulled to the surface at once.

It was driving him mad.

"Get out," he repeated, his voice barely a hiss, "I need to have a chat with _Reginald_."

"Excuse _me _darling, but you can go fuck yourself."

Bud snarled harshly at the reply, fluid eyes narrowing furiously at the gorgeous bird. He latched onto her arm, pulling her none too gently from Reggie's lap.

"I said get out Sapphire!"

She yanked her arm away from the rough grip, immediately pulling her dress up to cover herself again once she was free. "What the HELL is your problem?!" she yelled, meeting the enraged stare Bud was still giving her.

He didn't respond at first, unable to react beyond shaking in fury. "Get out."

Beautiful features twisted into an angry snarl at the repeated command. "I'm going!" she finally answered, yanking the door behind her open harshly before continuing, "You've marked your territory," she snarled, slamming the heavy barrier behind her.

Reggie had never seen the normally poised woman in such an angry state and it left him dumbfounded. He was far too shocked to react. He hadn't moved an inch, brain too clouded with lingering arousal and intoxicant to produce much of a reaction. He just sat there, dumbstruck and staring at the bubbling drummer before him.

"What the fuck Bud?!" he finally managed

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Reggie gaped at the stupidity of the question. "Are you fucking joking?!" he yelled.

Bud all but ignored the string of angered complaints that followed. "What the hell are you complaining about?! You're in one piece aren't you?" he snapped, his mind only growing more irrational as his rage mounted. "Might not have been if that bitch woulda had her way with you," he muttered to himself as an afterthought.

"Yeah, sure," Reggie answered angrily, "What the hell do _I_ have to complain about? I've just been groped, forced to choke on slutty _clown_ tongue and now I just got cock blocked! Quite frankly I'm getting pretty sick of ALL of you! Do you have any idea what you've been doing to me?!"

As the final sentence passed Reggie's bill, the last, thinly held strand of Bud's composure broke and a flood of repressed emotion burst forth. His water boiled in his fury.

"Do _I _know what I've been doing to _YOU_?" he growled darkly, "Do you have any idea what you've been doing to ME?! What I've had to endure for you and because of you over the past four months?!"

The suddenly deep and furious tone made Reggie swallow subconsciously in dread. He didn't like the look that suddenly filled the aqueous eyes glaring at him.

"All this time I've done nothing but try to help you and you've been nothing but callous and resistant!" Bud paused, his form hunching and his look suddenly filled with depression. "I just thought… maybe you'd see that I…" The dejected look faded as quickly as it had come, unrestrained malice filling Bud's eyes once again. "But you're just fucking oblivious to it aren't you?! Blind to the feelings you cause!"

In an instant the light advance had the now petrified bassist on his feet backing away from the crazed drummer.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Reggie snapped, rounding the small table behind him for a semblance of protection from the watery fiend.

"YOU'RE WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME!" Bud screamed, the months of pain and frustration clearly written in his voice. "The depth of feeling behind that blank face of yours! How much fun it is to be around when you _do_ kinda let your guard down!" he paused, form shuddering in frustration. "And then of course there's all the things you don't even fucking _realize_ make you alluring," he continued, rounding the table that Reggie had placed between in a vain attempt at a barrier. "That tall frame, thin waist. The exotic nature of your appearance in general… those eyes." With each sentence he moved closer, his pace stopping as the last words passed his fluid lips.

Despite the liquid disposition of his own eyes the lust-filled haze that suddenly clouded them was blaringly obvious to Reggie. An instinctual bolt of his body found the terror-filled mallard with his back literally to a wall. The pace of his breath increased tenfold as the other mutant continued his flowing advance. Unfortunately for him that it only made him look more tempting to the lust-crazed drummer.

"Those _eyes_," Bud finally repeated, his voice low and animalistic.

The blatant arousal in the words snapped Reggie from his fear-induced freeze causing him to bolt urgently away from the approaching canine, backing as far away from him as he could.

"You're fucking crazy Bud!" he yelled, rather impressed how much of his fear he managed to hide with the angry tone. "Stay the fuck away from me!" he continued when his evident distaste for the other's increasingly obvious intentions went ignored.

Bud didn't reply. It was as though his mind was no longer in the livid, bubbling form still advancing on the cringing bassist. There was nothing Reggie could have said to get through to him. Pure panic set in. In a last ditch effort to save himself from what he was sure was to come, he made a mad dash for the door. There was no good it could have done; Reggie never stood a chance. Like a predator with its prey mere inches from death, the second the frightened avian made his move Bud attacked. He caught the other with a terrifying ease that left Reggie flailing in horror. He pressed desperately at the watery arms now encircling his waist kicking his feet futilely against the churning fluid at his back.

"LET ME GO! DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!" Reggie screamed, his frantic struggles never ceasing as his anxiety amplified.

The distressing hold dredged of feelings of fright that went far beyond the mere moment: a fear that contact only led to pain.

Bud just growled gutturally in response, throwing the struggling bassist back up against the wall he had just come from and pulling his slim arms over his head so he could pin them in place with his shaking fists. In that moment Reggie was allowed a brief chance to meet the deep pools of azure anger that were usually so mesmerizing to him. Now the blue eyes only made his blood go cold.

With a display of teeth and an eerie snarl the moment ended, Bud swirling his water forcefully against Reggie's body as he pressed the other's bill against his flowing muzzle. For a second it was something like a strange bruising kiss, but Bud's actions quickly became more aggressive. Reggie choked at the vicious stream of fluid that was pushed down his throat as the fervent mammal forced him to drink in his water. Reggie was just thankful it was brief, liquid limbs freeing his hands as the drummer's body disintegrated. He hacked desperately when the treatment stopped, falling forward and coughing water as the moist barrier gave way. Bud's fluid form caught him just before he hit the ground only to force his chest roughly against the hard surface moments later. Reggie struggled against the powerful hold, trying to push his upper body away from the tiled floor.

"You're fucking crazy! How the hell do you even expect to fuck me?!" Reggie yelled, his continued attempts to use the angry tone to mask his fear falling painfully short.

Bud growled at the question. He pulled the quivering mallard's rear against him, moving him to his knees while keeping his chest pressed to the floor. Reggie didn't like the position one bit. The besmirching water surged roughly against his hips, the plant-like skin instinctively soaking in the stimulating stream, pulling on it as though to fill every inch of his being. Reggie's eyes widened at the unexpectedly erotic feel, his feet scrapping erratically against the ground as his desperation to get away grew.

"There," Bud panted deeply, his voice low and laced with desire, "Mystery solved."

Reggie really wished he hadn't finally spoken, the feral sound of the other man's voice only increasing his fear. Bud gripped his plant-like body again, touching whatever bare skin he could get his hands on. He yanked the black coat higher on the other's shuddering body, pushing the fabric roughly up to his chest so that he had better access to the irresistibly smooth frame. The moment the green skin was exposed he pressed his body against every inch he could find, swirling his water in forceful, stimulating streams against the tender and delightfully responsive flesh.

Reggie cried out in horror, petrified by the arousal of the situation. His screams would do no good, the noise from the still raging party nearby drowning the cries in the excessive volume. His struggles became even more feverish and frantic at the feelings assaulting him. Wooded talons continued to scrape futilely against the ground as he tried to escape the unwanted touches. No matter how hard he tried, there was nothing he could do. Every time he tried to push away, Bud always managed to pull him back into the same position. He was absolutely powerless against the aqueous menace, and that terrified him.

There was nothing he could do to escape the defiling warmth. The heat spread through every crevice of his body, growing especially torturous in his groin. It was an extreme violation, and he didn't like it one bit. Unfortunately, his body didn't quite agree. Even though it was such sensation unlike Reggie had ever felt before, even he was capable of recognizing it for what it was. The harsh reality of the sexual excitement revived Reggie's terror full force. He struggled harder, dry sobs falling from his bill at the realization. The cries drowned in the shaky, uncontrollable moans that followed, the arousing strokes of the crazed drummer continually forcing the primal calls of pleasure as he pressed his churning water against Reggie's responsive skin.

The feeling only grew worse when Bud began to buck his hips against him slightly, letting out soft grunts every time he did. The feral sounds made Reggie shudder pathetically in his distress. He really didn't like how the particular stream beneath the leaves mimicked how another more tangible appendage might feel especially when coupled with the thrusting.

The assault of pleasure and painful treatment soon left Reggie with little energy to do anything beyond quiver in the puddle surrounding him, his entire body shaking severely. He tried to detach himself from the situation entirely as he'd always done with his fear in the past, but the horrible, delectable heat still tormenting him made it all but impossible. He sunk trembling teeth into his lower bill, trying desperately to silence the traitorous sounds of enjoyment he was letting forth. His face tinted dark green in his shame. He couldn't stop his body from pulling in the water as much as Bud was forcing it in, and it was a delight to the watery form behind him in a way the drummer would have never believed possible.

Bud was completely lost in his own world of ecstasy, a vastness of sensation the likes of which he had never felt before; it was as much a new experience to him as it was to the still trembling mallard gripped forcefully in his arms. The tingling heat swirling in his wet body instilled a feeling of euphoria within his churning form that was the closest to real pleasure he'd experienced since his transformation. And so much more.

He shuddered at the excess of stimulation, gripping Reggie harder and pulling a sharp gasp from the mallard as he subconsciously forced his water against him as hard as he could. It was more than Reggie could take. His slender frame arched to unnatural proportions, pressing his form more forcefully against the body behind him—much against his will. He was beyond control of his actions. Quivering bill parted and blue eyes widened to their limit at the feeling that spread through him. A choked, almost painful sounding moan was torn from his throat as his floral skin began to force the still churning water from their permeable walls. Bud groaned uncontrollably at the feeling as Reggie began to return his own water to him, his form bubbling more forcefully: boiling in the shared feeling of the forced orgasm.

He gripped the leafy mutant beneath him tightly as he flowed them both into a sitting position, Reggie's body jerking slightly as he continued to force a steady stream of Bud's liquid pleasure from his body. The feeling finally pushed Bud over the thin edge on which he perched, the torturous heat flowing from the bassist's body finally taking him over completely. He lost control of his shape, Reggie falling none too gently onto the hard floor in the process. Bud caught himself as best he could as his own body rained to the ground. He reformed just above the shaking duck beneath him, sitting on watery knees and holding himself up by his arms, one perched on either side of Reggie's exhausted body. He relished in the lingering feeling of pleasure sending waves through his fluid form.

The satisfaction of the moment was extremely fleeting. Once the pleasure and alcohol induced haze cleared his mind he was able to think far more clearly.

Reggie's now exhausted body was slumped lifelessly against the ground, his breath coming in soft, heavy pants. It was painfully obvious that he lacked the energy to even lift his head from the floor. Through the damp bangs Bud could see the look of betrayal in his weary blue eyes. The pained gaze cut through him like a jagged blade, forcing the full implications of what he had just done on him. Everything had happened so fast that he could hardly believe it had just taken place, and as he realized the pain he had caused, he suddenly wished more than anything that he could take it all back.

The look of regret was blatant on his face.

"Reggie… I—"

He cut himself off as the soft words snapped the shaken duck abruptly out of his mental block. The hurt look was quickly replaced with rage as Reggie flipped himself over, using his heels to push away from the drummer as quickly as his sitting position allowed. Vine-like arms wrapped around his still shaking and soaked body once he had forced his back against the nearby wall.

"Don't you EVER fucking touch me again," he hissed, the deep, angry tone attesting to his pain despite the whispered nature of his words.

Bud swallowed around the sick feeling in his throat as he tried slipping closer to the cringing bassist. "Please," he begged, " Reggie, I-I-"

The continued attempt to apologize along with the closer proximity only prompted Reggie abruptly to his feet, arms never leaving their self-embrace as he backed frantically away from the approaching drummer.

"Just stay away from me," he whispered, some of the malice in his voice already being replaced with misery as he shifted his coat back to its original position. "… Just stay away from me."

Bud's heart broke at the repeated sentence as he watched Reggie run from the room. His head hung with regret, shame, and utter misery, his whole body slumping once the other was gone. He had never forced anyone in his life and now he had just done it to the only person he'd ever had genuine feelings for.

If he were still capable of crying, he would have.

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><p>God I'm evil.<p>

More metalness to come!

Oh, and btw. The more comments I get the sooner I'll get the next chapter done… Jus sayin'.


	9. The Concert

Author's note: Ooh yeah, chapter 9 is here bitches! Not much to say about this one I guess. Just overly excited that it's finished, heh. Not sure why considering this one is such a step down from the behemoth that was chapter 8, but I feel accomplished. So you'd better enjoy it! I kid. But seriously.. you'd better enjoy it.

Oh, and while I'm babbling, I just want to take a moment here to thank all you dears out there who have taken the time to leave reviews for me and let me know that my writing truly is loved ^^ This story just wouldn't happen without all your support and it means the world to me :)

Ok, enough sappy. On to the metals!

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><p>If there had ever been a dawn so grey, Bud could not recall it.<p>

The anguished drummer had been watching the inky sky slowly fade to pale morning for hours, completely lost to the torment of his own mind. All he saw was darkness no matter how high the sun rose. It felt like the entire world had been sucked of its life, deprived of its very essence. It was as though a false haze of fantasy had been stripped away to bare the world for what it truly was: desolate and grotesque. It was a bitter sight, forcing Bud to face the memories of all the blissful sunrises he had spent with a certain floral-bird.

The watery form shuddered in the cool air, the despondent dog's will to hold his shape quickly fading as the morning slipped into the early afternoon and the time when he knew he would have to face the others grew nearer. A group of heavily hung over metal stars could hardly be expected to rise before noon, but the concert would wait for no one, and Bud knew his solitude couldn't last much longer. The drummer's fluid seeped from his perch atop the massive manor, sliding back down to the nearby balcony and into the kitchen. A miserable sigh was all that gave evidence of the aquatic mammal's pain as he curled up at the table.

The memories hurt more than anything at that moment. The knowledge of what he had done festering inside him and eating away at his entrails like some horrid, caustic acid. He'd never felt so sick to his nonexistent stomach. Miserable azure eyes lifted slightly upward as though he could see the tormented bassist through the walls separating them.

It was the last thing Reggie would have wanted. After what had happened, just the thought of the water-dog made him shudder in dread and sneer in pure repulsion.

But, he couldn't _stop_ thinking about him.

Within the confines of his room, the mutant duck lay shrouded in darkness, curtains closed against the growing light outside. Reggie was curled up as much as possible in the shadows, legs pulled to his chest and slim arms wrapped tightly around himself. He was quickly weakening from lack of sleep and sun, but he was too far gone to even notice let alone care. Nothing he did could stop the incessant shudders running through his thin frame. He felt cold all over. Five scalding showers had failed to free him from the lingering feeling of Bud's fluid still coursing within his body—that feeling of violation and vicious pleasure.

He hadn't really slept at all. Hours had passed, marked by nothing but his occasional panicked panting, the frantic sounds acting like some eerie clock ticking down his final moments. Reggie didn't even notice the sounds. All he could hear was Bud's horrid grunts of desire: the echo of primal passion still defiling his thoughts. All he could feel was the phantom caress of watery hands forcing pants of disgraceful desire from his own mouth.

His stomach lurched at the thought of his own pleasure. The confusion of his enjoyment almost tore at him more than the pain of the betrayal. Just the thought of the foreign feelings of arousal dredged up by the crazed drummer made Reggie's entire body cringe. Such an intimate moment that should have been shared not forced. Only a soft, choked cry bore testament to the inner turmoil, Reggie's eyes widening at the memories, the orbs already strained and red from the tears that refused to fall.

It was almost painful to force the emotion away; Reggie struggling to replace the fear with fury. A soft snarl sounded into the dark room. It was all the trembling duck could do to keep the complete mental breakdown at bay. His shudders increased at the gruff yell that followed.

"BUSHROOT!"

He flinched at the sound of his name, curling in on himself even more as though trying to escape from the retched sound. The displeased avian snarled at the door when several sharp bangs forced further intrusion upon his solitude. He didn't answer but it didn't stop the frustrated singer outside from continuing.

"Get your lazy ass out of bed NOW before I drag it out!" Negaduck yelled, giving the heavy door a final kick as though to make sure the demand sunk in.

Reggie scowled at the order as the disgruntled mallard left but still offered no reply as he tried to convince his body to move from the mattress. He forced his feet to the ground—barely the courage in his stance to make them move at all. His heart pounded in the force of the panic attack that was trying to surface. He forced it away, numbing his mind to the memories that sank their claws in like a savage beast attempting to tear him apart. He was afraid of the emotions. Petrified to be more accurate. He forced it away as he finally convinced his legs to move.

His steps were sluggish, almost drained of every ounce of life. It was almost as though he was not there at all–his body surrendered to the world around him to use and dictate as it so desired. Reggie didn't even look at his bass as he grabbed it; only the steely feel of the black guitar's heavy strings against his fingers gave any proof that it was there at all.

He paused by the large mirror, daring to take in his own reflection. The sight only made him scowl. The reflection was disgusting. He'd never felt so disgusted by himself. Shaking fingers lifted a cigarette to his bill as he stared hypnotized at the repulsive duck in the shining surface. He did his best to ignore how the digits trembled as he lit the slender cylinder.

The nicotine brought him back to reality, forcing him to remember that he would have to leave his room sooner or later. The repulsed sneer quickly slipped away as he forced the feelings to hide. The cerulean eyes staring back at him now half-lidded and blank, steeling the emotion away behind an unfeeling mask. He only wished it could truly help.

Back downstairs, another groggy avian was just making his way sluggishly towards the oversized kitchen and the drummer within. Jack was dressed from head-to-toe in black and white, donning one of his most intricate outfits for the elaborate concert that would start in just a few hours. He groaned at the assault of the bright lights overhead, using the gloves in his hand to shield his eyes and cursing his hangover in hopes that the mumbled swears would force the ailment to go away. He was almost too dazed to even notice that Bud was in the room at all. Only the faint flash of blue at the edge of his vision really alerted him to the other's presence.

Bud certainly noticed him. He had never wanted so badly to just be alone—terrified that the jester might immediately see right through him and catch sight of the disgusting act he had committed only hours earlier. He slumped in shame as the other made his way along the back counter to obtain some coffee.

Jack threw his black gloves on the tiled surface as he poured the dark brew into his favorite mug, content to feel the overwhelming warmth against his palms as he turned to rest his back against the counter so he could address the other.

"Uuunnngh this is seriously gay," he grumbled, eyes still half closed against the bright lights overhead "… and not the good _butt sex_ kind."

Jack urged one eye fully open when he received no reply, pushing his hazy vision to take in the sight of the miserable dog across the room.

"Oh, man Buddy," he said, "You look like I feel."

Bud groaned in response, turning his head away in disgrace. Jack took the response as a similar feeling of exhaustion and annoyance that he himself was feeling. "You have no idea," the dog replied.

"Yeah, well I woke up with two chicks and at least five basic household appliances in bed with me. How was _your_ night?" Jack continued, his dazed brain unable to process the depth of despair the canine was currently experiencing.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Bud mumbled.

The response caught Jack off guard, his mildly playful attitude quickly slipping away as he finally forced both eyes focus completely on his now obviously upset friend. Bud didn't even have the courage look him in the eye.

Before Jack had a chance to question could possibly put the dog in such a state, the soft clicking of wood on tile signaled the slow approach of the answer to his question.

Reggie wasn't even looking where he was going at first, his back hunched and his eyes cast upon the floor, but the sight of Jack's complexly designed boots soon coaxed his gaze to lift; he was suddenly very unprepared to be in the presence of others.

Blue eyes crept across the room, almost terrified to confirm the sight of the other occupant that he already knew was there. The reaction was immediate. Reggie's face twisted instinctually into a furious display of his anger and agony, his still smoldering cigarette falling to the ground in the process. He didn't even notice the hash growl he directed at the drummer. Bud couldn't have missed it if he tried. The snarl was deep and furious and yet sounded more akin to a wounded animal than one about to attack.

Bud had gotten the message clear enough: Reggie didn't want the water dog anywhere near him. He looked physically pained as the angry and terrified mallard stormed from the room. Jack was far too busy staring stupidly at the departing bassist and trying to wrap his mind around what just happened to notice the tortured look his band mate was supporting.

"_Geez_, what crawled up _his_ butt?" he questioned once his frazzled brain recovered, brow still lifted in confusion.

Bud couldn't control the sobs that came at the comment.

The reaction caught Jack very much off guard. It was not the normal depression dredged up by too much alcohol, this was a depth of feeling and heartbreak that duck had never seen before. It was almost terrifying.

The guitarist was in shock. "Whoa, Buddy… what the hell happened?" he questioned gently.

"I…" he hung his head, suddenly unable to even admit his true feelings. "I really fucked up Jack."

The mallard cocked a confused brow at him, lost for a moment before things started to make more sense. Jack's lower bill dropped as the realization hit him, a sharp gasp sounding at the revelation.

"Oh. My. GOD! You screwed him didn't you?!" he gasped.

Bud could barely hold back the horrified cries that threatened to fall from his mouth.

"You just don't understand Jack," he choked, shaking his head, "He's… he's not like the others."

Jack blinked stupidly at him for a moment, trying to piece together what the other was really getting at. He scrutinized the watery mammal closely trying to pick through the liquid layers as thought it would reveal his secrets. The uncomfortable way Bud rubbed at his neck in response to the scrutiny was enough to finally make it all very clear. Jack's eyes went wide as all the pieces began to come together in his mind; Bud had been hiding a depth of feeling that his fellow musician hadn't even realized, and it was suddenly very obvious: Bud didn't just have feelings for the moody bassist, he was in _love_ with him.

"Buddy! Not…" he trailed off, glancing from side to side as though to assure they were alone, "The _L-_word," he finished softly.

Bud's refusal to meet his gaze was answer enough.

"I mean I _knew_ you wanted to fuck him but—"

The look of utter self-disgust and pain on Bud's face cut Jack off abruptly. There was something more to the story.

The drummer sighed, collecting his nerves to answer the questions he knew were now stirring in the other's head.

"It's worse than that just that, Jack," he paused taking in a shaky breath to try and collect himself, "I- I, I r-ra… I-ra-" a choked sob cut him off before he could finish. He was genuinely afraid to say the word; just thinking it made him feel ill.

Jack had gotten the message well enough. His mouth hung open in his shock.

"You… you actually-"

The dry sobs came again, Bud completely unable to control them; his entire body shuddering in hysterical waves beneath the force of the cries. He put his face in his hands, shielding the world from his view and willing it to go away completely—willing it to all just have been a horrible dream.

But it wasn't.

No matter how hard Bud tried, it would not erase what he had done.

Jack's gaze softened as a rare moment of remorse overcame him. He didn't particularly like having to deal with more serious situations, but whether he wanted to admit it or not the watery canine held a special place in his heart, and knowing that his own drunken actions that night had quite probably contributed to the act only made him feel worse. Tender eyes regarded the still sobbing drummer with genuine hurt for his friend: a rare emotion reserved for very few in the drake's life. Jack stepped slowly closer, placing downy fingers gently on Bud's wet shoulder as he closed the gap.

Fluid digits slid slowly from azure eyes as Bud lifted his head to meet Jack's comforting gaze. Without a word the rhythmist slipped into his lap, Bud immediately burying his face in the other's chest as the mallard wrapped his arms around him. One hand clutched Bud's shaking shoulder as the other rested amid his watery locks. Skilled fingers stroked through the fluid strands tenderly in an affectionate ritual unique to them. Despite the horrible shame and regret still eating away at him, Bud was grateful for the affection just as the jester knew he would be. The gentle stroking always seemed to elicit a feeling of comfort within Bud that nothing else had ever been able to. It was a brief safe haven amidst the hellish reality he had built up around himself. Jack didn't even care about the slight dampness soaking into his feathers.

It felt like hours before Bud was finally able to compose himself enough to pull his face from the jester's soft plumage, resting the side of his head against Jack's chest in a final grasp for comfort. Jack rubbed his ear gently as his sobs turned into barely contained whimpers of despair. The canine still didn't have the heart to remove himself from the embrace. His tortured moans drowned in the furious shouts that followed.

"FAGGOT! DRIP-FACE! Get your asses out here. NOW!"

Jack growled at the malicious yells, glaring in the direction of the singer's voice. Bud sighed heavily, the pain that was weighing down on him written audibly in the sound. He pushed Jack gently from his lap, finally gathering his courage to stand. He was suddenly too uncomfortable to even look at the mallard.

The guitarist regarded him with concerned eyes, trying to decide what he could possibly say. He finally turned from the slumping drummer and made his way over to the back counter to retrieve his gloves. Skillful fingers slipped the black fabric on with ease, the mallard pausing in the doorway to regard his friend once again. The dog still wouldn't face him.

"Some things happen for a reason Buddy boy…" Jack finally said, his voice soft and filled with obvious sympathy, "Try to forget you ever cared about him."

Without another word the duck slipped from the room, leaving the water-dog behind him with nothing but his own emotions.

Bud failed to hold back the final sob that followed. They both knew that wasn't possible.

He didn't even have the courage to hold his head up as he trudged after the departing bird. It almost kept him from noticing when he finally entered the main room, but the smothering tension was all but impossible to ignore.

Bud lifted his head slowly to finally face the rest of the band. Jack had situated himself over by the stairs where Elmo was sitting, hair still shaped into the mohawk his companion had given him the night before and fingers plucking nervously at his guitar. The strumming stopped when the guitarist noticed Bud in the doorway. It didn't take long for the others to notice him too.

Bud shifted uncomfortably under their gaze. All he could do was stare forlornly at the one person that wouldn't look at him: the sulking mallard standing in the corner, arms crossed and cigarette smoke framing his angry face in an eerie manner. The sight made the drummer feel as though his heart might stop from sheer despair. Only the displeased clearing of Negaduck's throat pulled him from the torturous sight, forcing the entire band to turn their attention to their leader.

They could see the venom in his eyes, feel his extreme lack of patience. He was starting to look rather ill—crimson eyes sunken in and his brow twitching with the sting of every throb his migraine forced him to endure. It was literally painful for Negaduck to twist the agonized groan that escaped his mouth into an angered growl.

The dull throb that had been plaguing him for months had morphed into a piercing agony. It stabbed through his skull and filled the space with red hot fire. It had him very much on edge. The smallest noise was enough to set him off. Only chugging alcohol did any good: the pain had grown to a point it was beyond the help of his usual medications.

"SO nice of all you assholes to join me," he finally said, a bitter sneer at the edge of his voice.

It only increased his irritation when the comment caused the others to turn their eyes away. Only Reggie appeared unfazed. A sharp jab forced its way into Negaduck's skull; he was unable to keep the wince off his face as he rubbed at his throbbing temple. He didn't even have the energy to continue. All he could find the strength to do was grab a fresh bottle of alcohol from the bar to accompany him as he made his way to the elaborate elevator at the back of the room. If he was going to make it through this concert it was imperative that he conserve what stamina he had.

He practically slammed in the code to start the elevator, turning to face the others once again, back hunched and fists clenched, as the moving box crept its way past the massive expanse of lower levels and towards the devil room.

"Just don't fucking screw this up for me. ANY of you," Negaduck growled, eyes narrowing at the group before him.

The soft ding of the lift behind him signaled the arrival of the elevator. He paused for a moment to stare them all down before turning to enter the small space. "Now hurry the fuck up!" he snapped, crossing his arms irately.

Each member filed in with as much enthusiasm as any of them could muster; taking their places behind their leader. Only Bushroot remained.

"Get your ass in here Bush breath," Negaduck hissed, "I don't have all fucking day!"

Reggie scowled at the command, hiding his discomfort behind the furious stare.

"Don't _make_ me hurt you Bushroot," the singer added, his narrowed eyes stating quite clearly that he had zero patience at the moment.

The displeased plant-duck snarled quietly in response, baring his teeth in anger as he begrudgingly complied. It was all he could do to keep the anxiety at bay as he slipped into the small space. He did his best to be as far away from Bud as possible while confined in the claustrophobic box. He didn't even care that it meant practically cowering behind Jack.

Negaduck eyed the other duck suspiciously, turning his gaze to the fluid drummer as though the look would be sufficient to coax an explanation. Bud didn't dare look him in the eye. He didn't like the knowing stare one bit.

The few minutes it took to reach the ground level suddenly felt like hours.

Not a word passed between them as they made their way to the parking structure. Only the sound of their footsteps echoing against the stone walls lent any evidence of their journey.

In the shadows ahead of them was the massive hunk of metal that would be their transport for the night: a great metallic beast with such jagged edges and massive size that it was more a tank than a tour bus. The servants were already there loading Bud's drums and other various electrical necessities into the back of the huge vehicle.

"Is everything ready?" Negaduck snapped, his extreme impatience clearly evident.

"Yes, my Lord Negaduck," was the feeble reply.

"Good, then get out of here. I'm already fucking sick of lookin' at you."

He swept past the cringing servant without another word, stepping into the extreme transport as the others followed behind him. Reggie paused for a moment to regard the towering machine, the intimidation of it almost enough to take his mind from torturous memories still plaguing it. He followed despite the unsettling feelings conjured by the four wheeled behemoth.

Within the bus, each of members had taken their usual places. Reggie immediately made his way to the back—the cab already moving beneath him— where he could isolate himself as much as possible, body slumping and eyes nearly unfocused in an attempt to prevent the sight of a certain flowing form currently situated across the bus. Bud knew better than to get any closer. Only the soft dripping of the stray drops that fell from him and the light bubbling of his form broke the stifling silence among the group. They were all on edge that afternoon.

Even the normally over-energized duo beside the depressed drummer was oddly solemn in the wake of the tension around them. Elmo seemed particularly uncomfortable under the stressful situation. The young guitarist was leaning his cheek gently against Jack's shoulder as the mallard twirled his soft tail absently between his fingers. Elmo dared to let his eyes slip closed for a moment as he soaked up the tender attention. Angered crimson orbs greeted him when he finally lifted his lids again. He straightened immediately as he caught sight of the irritated red stare. Negaduck didn't like the displays of affection and it was quite obvious that he wouldn't tolerate it even a little bit that day. Jack snarled softly at the glaring duck, furious that he had caused the other to pull away, but he kept his mouth shut. The trip wouldn't last much longer anyway.

Even through the excessive thickness of the steel walls, Reggie could already hear the cries of ruthless anticipation coming from the assemblage of fans that had gathered. He very much wished he couldn't. The tires of the massive transport groaned beneath their burden as the tour bus came to a halt. The banging in Reggie's chest sped to nearly unbearable proportions as the doors opened and the others began to file out.

He pulled another cigarette from his coat, continuing the endless string of smoking he had been subjecting his lugs to since he left his room. The chain smoking was all that kept his emotional mask in place—the only thing he could do to calm his nerves. Like a hazy familiar friend clouding his pain.

The long hallway leading to the stage was like a prison, the trip down it like a walk of death. Blue eyes crept across the malevolently designed platform as the dark passage gave way to the stage beyond. A twisted display of metal and mechanisms met his gaze, the area separated from the auditorium beyond by a metallic wall that proudly displayed the band's logo beneath the crimson shine of the up lighting. All around the stagehands were still tending to the final adjustments required for the mass of pyrotechnics situated around the space. Reggie stiffened when one of the nameless underlings motioned for him to take his place, scowling when he noted that his position was so near to the raised platform that housed Bud and his excessive drum set.

Reggie clenched his teeth against the cigarette in his mouth as he caught sight of the liquidly gaze now focused upon him. Long purple bangs cast darkened shadows upon the angry eyes, the red tint of the lights against his green skin only adding to the menacing quality. A smoldering heat began to stir inside the displeased bassist. It welled and burned within him as he forced the pain into anger, twisting the sorrow into loathing until the hate seethed from his expression.

Bud felt sick.

He snapped his head away in shame, eyes closing tightly and fluid teeth clenching together to force away the lamented cries that threatened to come forth. A deep shaky breath did little to help his composure. All he could bring himself to do as the furious mallard stepped closer was stare blankly at the iron wall before him.

Behind the veil of steel, a torrent of anticipation was growing, the cries of the crowd beyond penetrating through. Reggie took his place with a zombie-like demeanor as the various stagehands finished the final adjustments. Blue eyes focused on the front of the stage where Elmo was currently being hooked up to what looked to be some sort of large and complex battery bathed in blue light and covered with wires. The now antsy rodent shuddered as the roadies hooked in the final cord, shivering in delight as the electricity began to surge through his veins. Overly-energized fingers flew over his strings at an almost unbelievable pace in his battery-charged excitement. It was suddenly quite obvious how the electrical rat had gained such a reputation as the fastest guitarist in the world. He started to look very high, soft giggles slipping from his muzzle as he shifted from foot to foot and flicked his tail around excitedly.

Jack stared warily at his companion; he was never pleased with the excessive amount of electricity that was pumped into Elmo during concerts. It made him fun to play with, but it was also a drug of extreme proportions to the rat, and he was hardly in a normal state to begin with that day. It put his avian companion very much on edge. Despite his worry, he took his usual place to the left of the shorter duck currently preparing himself in the center of the stage.

"Alright assholes, let's do this," Negaduck finally said, cracking his neck from side to side to relieve some of the agonizing tension. "Bud," he continued, snapping his fingers at the dog behind him "beat."

Already irate eyes narrowed when the command was met with silence. A glance over his shoulder made the drummer's current lack of attention very apparent. Negaduck growled at the obviously distracted dog. "Set the fucking beat Bud!" he roared, feathers bristling in his anger.

Bud jumped at the furious yell, back stiffening abruptly as he pulled himself together. Four clicks of his drumsticks sounded into the space, signaling the metal wall shielding them from the crowd to lift. The music began before the brutal shroud was barely off the ground, the destructive cries increasing in volume and enthusiasm at the first sounds of the metallic beat.

Reggie could practically hear the pounding of his heart in his ears as he first set eyes upon the massive crowd that had gathered. They spread far beyond the space before the stage, reaching across the city and onto rooftops just to get a glimpse of the band. There must have been hundreds of thousands of them all together, all grouped as though they had merged into a single twisted entity just for that night. It didn't take long for the group to be stirred into a frenzy; fists in the air and elated cries nearly drowning out the music. A sea of devil horns filled the arena: an eerie salute to their metal messiah that rippled across the crowd like a wave of tangible evil.

Reggie had never seen anything quite like it. But yet, part of him was all but numb to their presence.

There was nothing in their cries that could truly faze him at that point— no fear of their presence that could break past the frigid wall he had been fortifying all day. He had shut himself off from the world, retreated behind his static shell to protect himself from his own emotions. There was only one person that was capable of eliciting a response from him at that point and as he noticed the fluid fiend staring at him he snarled ferociously, starting very clearly how he felt about the drummer's observation.

Bud's entire body sagged in shame and despair as he snapped his eyes quickly way from the disapproving mallard. He barely had the will to play at all. Negaduck was not pleased in the slightest.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he hissed as a brief break in the lyrics allowed him a pause, "You'd better start paying attention to what the FUCK you're doing!"

Bud swallowed harshly, straightening his form and forcing every ounce of energy he had to keep the beat going.

A final growl from the short singer ended the opening song, the mass of fans chanting the band's name like some possessed horde.

"All you assholes out there make some noise for your new bassist!" Negaduck yelled.

Reggie flinched at the spot light that was suddenly thrust upon him, squinting against the bright light and scowling at the screaming mob. The resulting cries were obviously not good enough for Negaduck.

"I SAID, make some fucking noise for your new BASSIST!" he roared once again, thoroughly displeased with the unsatisfactory response.

Reggie was able to produce only a vicious snarl in reply to the resulting yells. He could barely even raise his eyes to look at them. He suddenly hated them for looking back. Repulsed that anyone could see him; convinced that they might see past his mask and into his tortured soul.

"Show them what you got, _Reginald_," Negaduck spoke, his voice barely audible without the aid of his microphone.

The narrowed, almost malevolent, stare only made Reggie more furious, frowning unhappily at the signal for him to start his solo that would commence the next song. The crowd roared at the skilled strumming, thoroughly unaware of the sweating palms, the frantic thoughts, the full scale panic attack Reggie was truly holding back. Fingers moved as though possessed: no indication from their owner that he even knew what was going on—no direction from his shattered mind to dictate their actions.

Reggie's playing continued as Negaduck addressed the massive congregation, riling them up more with one of his customary opening speeches as the rest of the band began to softly join in with the already playing bassist.

"Alright all you freaks out there, listen up! I'm not in a good fucking mood tonight, so I'd BETTER get what I want!" The noise amplified at the statement. "And I want this stadium to CRACK beneath your feet, I want the world to feel the thunder of your cries, and I want every mother fucker out there to party like you never have before!" The resulting roar was practically smothering. Negaduck smirked faintly at the screams; his seriousness returning quickly as he continued. "If you do not leave my concert bleeding I will PERSONALLY track you down and beat your fucking skull in! YOU GOT THAT?!"

The frenzied roar that was his response was enough to cement the elated, evil grin on his face. He fed off the cries, the worship easing his suffering at least for the moment. He couldn't help but groan deeply in pleasure before continuing.

"Alright jerkwads, split down the middle. We're gonna have ourselves a mother fuckin' wall. Of. DEEEAATH!"

Negaduck's evil smile only increased in size when the final growled was met with an even louder response from the crowd. "Alright," he yelled over the noise once the sea of fans had split, "All you fuckers to my right!" he waited for their yells of acknowledgment before continuing. "You're on Elmo's team," he said, pointing a gloved finger at the sparking guitarist. "And all you fuckers to my left!" The other side responded much the same. "You're stuck with this asshole," he finished, enthusiasm taking a notable drop as he motioned to the jester at his other side.

The lack of zeal didn't stop Jack from soaking up the admiration, pausing his playing so he could motion for the crowd to make more noise for him.

"The louder and harder your guitarist plays the harder I want you to beat the other side's faces in. IS THAT CLEAR?!"

The ear shattering collective yell was more than enough of a reply.

The volume of the song increased rapidly as Negaduck ended his speech and the others joined Reggie's bass fully. Elmo played with fervor, Jack matching his unbeatable guitar playing as best he could with his habitual onstage acrobatics. It was undeniably impressive that he managed to continue playing while jumping around in such a manner.

The crowd thundered with the heavy beat of the bass, bones cracking under the brutal contact of fist against face. There were at least three major mosh pits beyond the main area where the two sides of the human wall were still forcing their way against each other; one could only guess how many smaller ones were hidden beyond, swallowed up by the sheer size of the collective mass.

The intricate display of flames around the stage had soon grown to such proportions that it nearly engulfed the musicians it encircled. The heat of the blaze combined with the carnage before the sage only served to put Reggie even more on edge. A fire burned within him, pouring from his strings as he played and twisting in tandem with the pyrotechnics around him. He wasn't sure how much more he could take.

He wouldn't even have a chance to find out.

The deep rumble in the distance was barely notable at first—building slowly much like a storm fortifying itself for a deluge—but the low noise was soon impossible for Reggie to ignore. Curious eyes lifted to the darkening, hazy sky, scanning the inky clouds for the source of the growing sound. He was hardly prepared for the answer he received. His jaw dropped and his fingers slowed to a stop as the misty haze parted to let forth a massive mechanism with such a strange appearance that Reggie had to look twice just to assure himself he hadn't lost his mind.

The odd aerial machine had been painted with incredible skill, the entire front masked in the portrait of a deranged duck engulfed in lightning, sharp teeth twisted into a snarl and evil eyes glaring ahead at anything that might dare to stare it down; it made the aircraft look as though it was some strange hybrid of metal and ferocious mallard. It sent a chill down Reggie's spine. He flinched as the bottom of the great iron ship crashed into one of the tall walls of the arena, the clash of metal against stone drowning the excessive blare of heavy metal and stopping the musicians in their tracks.

The large contraption towered above the crowd as all eyes fixed on its rusting and dingy surface. No sight could have made Negaduck more furious at that moment.

"Is that the fucking Thunderquack?!" he roared, not bothering to wait for the answer he already knew. "When the HELL did he get that thing back in the air?! You told me it was trashed Sparks!" he continued, rounding furiously on the now cringing rodent.

"I thought it was!" Elmo squeaked defensively, "How the hell was I supposed to know he could salvage the engine in that thing?!"

The conversation ended quickly when a sharp metallic groan sounded from the towering plane, the machine letting forth a formidable gun from within its steely depths that was enough to make even the mighty Negaduck wish for mercy.

"Oh, fuck me," he muttered.

The colossal gun wasted little time making the extent of its power known, firing a brutal shot into the center of the fans crowding the stage. The world seemed to stand still in the wake of the blast. Both Jack and Elmo found themselves too close to the explosion's proximity to remain standing. Elmo had to curl in on himself to protect his head from the raining debris; cords stretching as his body twisted

Negaduck screamed in pain, covering his ears as the shockwave aggravated his migraine to nearly unbearable proportions. It felt very much as though his head would burst. He fell to his knees momentarily disabled by the shock.

The chaos and dust cloud made it almost impossible to notice when the craft flew lower, front opening to let forth a blur of mallard and motorcycle, wheels skidding against the ground as it raced towards the bassist at the back.

The echo of the explosion rang in Reggie's head, blocking all but a high-pitched squeal from his senses. Petals shook frantically as he flipped his head back and forth in an attempt to return his normal sense of consciousness. He barely had time to glance at the bike advancing on him before everything went black, his brain hardly given the chance to register the butt of the shotgun that collided with his face. The well placed blow knocked him out in an instant as he was pulled onto the speeding vehicle with a deft fluidity that Reggie may have appreciated had he not been unconscious.

The stoic mallard turned the weapon quickly upon his barely recovered lookalike as the motorcycle spun back around. The buck shots struck the singer in the shoulder, throwing him back and clearing a path for the bike as the uninjured fans began to swarm the stage in fury. They didn't stand a chance against the deft pilot steering the strange craft, it's cargo safely within its confines once again and the plane already speeding into the air.

The departure was followed by an eerie sort of silence, the heavy quiet broken only by the faint howls of death and pain from the scattered fans and the furious roar from the singer kneeling on the stage. Negaduck gripped his bleeding shoulder tightly as he lifted himself back to his feet, the sting of the shrapnel merely an inconvenience in the wake of the true blow he had just been dealt.

"Tell me he did NOT just steal my FUCKING BASSIST!" he roared, turning on his still discombobulated band mates.

Jack just stared stupidly as he gripped his companion, the rodent's body practically convulsing under the sporadic voltage pouring into him from the now damaged battery at his back. The furious drake turned his wrath on the dripping dog beside them when the others offered no reply.

"JUST FIND HIM! I don't care what it takes, I don't care how long you have to search, FIND HIM NOW!" he screamed before lifting his microphone to his bill and turning his attention to what was left of the fans before him. "ALL OF YOU! I want that fucking menace found! NOW!"

The fans responded with all the obedience that their leader expected, rushing off into the darkening streets like cockroaches away from the light. Livid red eyes turned on Bud when the others had left, clearly displaying the question of why he had not yet left. The drummer swallowed thickly at the stare, not waiting for more angry words to follow before slipping quickly into the rubble.

Negaduck screamed furiously as the surrounding mass departed, staggering after them with as much anger fueled vitality as he could muster. Only the soft dripping of the blood pouring from his wounds seemed audible among the turmoil.

Elmo rubbed his slim arms for some semblance of comfort as Jack gently disconnected the sparking machine still hooked into his spine. He stared to the sky as an army of helicopters took to the air in a vain attempt to catch the long gone avian and his craft.

"Everything is different this time… isn't it Jack?" Elmo finally spoke, eyes never leaving the fiery sky above.

The soft words were nearly swallowed up by the chaos around them, but Jack heard him loud and clear. He sighed heavily, pulling his beloved companion close so that the rodent could rest his head against the soft, comforting shoulder he offered.

"Yeah, Mo Mo… yeah, it is."

* * *

><p>Nooow things are gonna get interesting. Prepare for more Drakey action!<p>

You know you want it.


	10. Dark Drake

Author's note: Wow… this one was a _bit_ of a task to accomplish. Not gonna lie, it was kinda a pain in the ass. Soooo much stuff to explain in one chapter. BUT I think I did ok. I had a bit of an issue saying it all in a way that would make sense, so I hope it's not too confusing. At least I managed a pretty speedy update for once. Yay me!

Soooo much dialog. My brainmeats hurt.

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><p>The city was hauntingly silent: the streets seemingly deserted in the wake of the decimation the disastrous concert had wrought.<p>

Deep below the foggy metropolis, a hidden realm stirred; with it, a stunned mutant began to wake.

There was nothing but darkness at first. Reggie felt very much as though he was trying to claw his way out of a deep dark pit—fighting for his life against some unknown entity trying to pull him further into the inky depths. Only the soft sound of the disembodied voices around him filtered through the blackness and into his dazed brain.

"I think ya killed him pop."

"He's fine."

"I don't know Drake, looks a bit _green_ to me. Heh, heh."

"… Don't make me hurt you LP."

"You got no sense of humor anymore, ya know that?"

"Dad had a sense of humor?"

"Quiet. I think he's waking up."

A feathered hand grasped abruptly at Reggie's face, two of the digits forcing one of his heavy lids open. The groggy bassist could barely make out the duck through the haze; only an impatiently narrowed gaze registered in his mind. He did his best to force his fuzzy vision to focus on the mallard before him, displeased scowl and lone eye soon solidifying before him.

"Earth to bassist. Wake UP!" the mystery bird snapped.

The familiarity of the voice was terrifying even in Reggie's barely conscious state; if it wasn't for the fact that it was slightly less gruff than Negaduck's he would have been sure it was the other mallard yelling at him. He jolted harshly away from the touch once his mind cleared enough for him to register what was going on.

"DON'T fucking touch me!" he yelled, teeth baring furiously at the unknown antagonist.

The short mallard before him was obviously taken aback at the extreme reaction, stepping away slightly and cocking a scrutinizing brow at him.

Reggie swallowed roughly against the painful dryness in his throat as he scanned his surroundings, panic rising within him when he noticed the tight cable forcing his arms to remain bound behind his back. The room around him was so dingy and dim he could hardly make out anything. He stared uncomfortably at the trio of ducks before him, scrutinizing each of them and shifting as much as he could while still tied to the wooden chair beneath him. At least they had left his feet free.

The three birds made an odd group to say the least. The shortest duck stood sternly in front of him, arms crossed and large grey fedora casting shadows across his face. Two redheads flanked him on either side: both taller in stature but obviously younger in age. The first was a teenage girl with a dark sense of fashion and wild hair tamed into a ponytail as best it could be; Reggie couldn't help but sneer somewhat at the obnoxiously toothy grin she sent his way. The second avian was far more imposing in appearance than his two shorter companions, tattered leather jacket and smoldering cigar in his bill only adding to his gruff demeanor. Despite the unnerving stature of the tall, muscular duck, the one-eyed mallard in the middle made the bound bassist far more uneasy.

Half of his face was shrouded in a black mask, the fabric covering the evidence of an obviously traumatic loss of his right eye. Only the small scars scattered around the makeshift eye patch betrayed the true struggle that had torn the orb from its owner. Many more scars lay nestled amid white feathers, but it was the jagged, angry wound on the mallard's neck was the most difficult to ignore. The large mark spanned across most of his collar—the feathers stripped away to bare the marred flesh beneath. The old wound was unnerving, but it was not what bothered Reggie the most about the strange mallard: it was his eerily similar appearance to another crazed duck currently haunting his life.

A sickening feeling formed in his stomach at the realization of how similar the other bird looked to Negaduck. If this was some even more evil twin, Reggie was sure he didn't want to know.

A single eye narrowed as the nervous bassist continued to silently observe them, the leader of the trio obviously growing more and more impatient as the seconds passed. Despite his obvious irritation, it was the largest of the group that reacted first, moving in for a closer look as he too grew tired of the waiting.

"So, this is our so-called last hope, eh?" he said as he circled the bassist, "He's fucking weird lookin'," he finished, narrowing his eyes in scrutiny and pulling the cigar from his bill as he stopped in front of the fidgeting plant-duck.

Reggie barely acknowledged him, too wary of the shorter bird behind him to take his eyes off the Negaduck lookalike.

The older mallard didn't respond, he simply continued to stare darkly as Reggie's blue eyes stared nervously back. Without warning he stepped closer to the uneasy mutant, the simple action eliciting an unnecessarily extreme response— his twin-like appearance and Reggie's recent assault eliciting an uncontrollable fear of being touched by the other again. Immediately he began to move away as best he could, the chair legs screeching and his heels scratching erratically against the floor as he desperately attempted to push away from them.

"JUST STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" he yelled, the furious glare on his face clearly mirroring his mouth's demand to be left alone.

The largest bird hunched over— head turned slightly to the side and one eye widened as though to observe the mutant more closely. "Kinda jumpy ain't he?"

Reggie sneered at the remark as a puff of thick cigar smoke was blown into his face.

"You really think he's gonna be any use to us Drake?" he continued glancing over his shoulder at the mallard behind him.

"He will. Trust me."

"Huh, oh yeah, like the _last_ bassist was, right?" the girl questioned cynically.

"Yeah, Gosalyn's right. That one was a fucking disaster."

"Yeah, well _that_ one was a moron. _This_ one at least has some brains."

"Pfft, what good does that do us if he's a fucking pussy?" Gosalyn muttered under her breath.

The quiet nature of the statement was not enough to conceal the fact that she had said it. She received a barely restrained slap to the back of her head in response as Drake turned angrily upon her.

He father stared sternly at her as she groaned and rubbed her head. "Watch your damn mouth," he scolded. "We're doing things my way and I don't want to hear any more complaining! He's not going anywhere and he's exactly what we need."

"Well, he's still weird lookin'," Launchpad grumbled.

"He's not here for decoration LP," Drake responded through clenched teeth.

"I don't know, put him in the corner might actually brighten this place up," the immature pilot snickered.

"Uh yeah, _hello_ kidnappers," Reggie interrupted, growing tired of being treated like he didn't exist. He waited for all the focus to be on him before continuing, "I'm sitting _right_ here, and I HAVE a fucking name!"

"Well, what the hell is it?" Drake asked impatiently, folding his arms over his chest crossly.

"Reggie."

"Reggie what?"

"Bushroot," he grumbled.

Without warning, an insane round of laughter filled the space—Gosalyn cackling at the hilarity of the name. Her obnoxious chortles slowed to barely stifled giggles as she began to realize she was the only one who found it funny. She glanced from her father to Launchpad as she realized how inappropriate her laughs had actually been.

"Oh, my god you're serious. Wicked sorry," she said, unable to resist the final chuckle that escaped her as the ridiculous irony of the name.

Drake found himself quite unable to react at first, staring at his daughter with his brow cocked and slight exasperation evident on his face. He cleared his throat loudly to focus the attention back on him before answering.

"Riight. Well then, _Reginald_," he paused obnoxiously as though to be sure Reggie got the message that he had heard him, "Launchpad, Gosalyn, Drake," he finished simply, pointing to each of them in succession and ending on himself. "Now that we're all _acquainted_, I need to ask you a very simple question."

Reggie shifted nervously at this, unable to decide if he wanted to know what that question was or not. "And that would be?" he asked anxiously.

Blue eyes widened at the knife that was suddenly thrust beneath his bill, Reggie's brain almost unable to comprehend how the shorter duck had managed to close the gap between them so quickly.

"If I let you lose, are you going to do something stupid?" he growled, eye narrowing in warning.

Reggie's breath caught in his throat at the glare, trying to force away the image of crimson eyes haunting his mind as he considered the question. He gulped audibly, finally managing to shake his head jerkily back and forth. He wasn't sure he had the energy to do much in the way of escaping anyway.

"Good," Drake replied, reaching behind the chair and slicing through the rough cable holding the vine-like arms behind the mutant's back.

Reggie rubbed at his sore wrists as they were freed, staring uncertainly at his captors but otherwise not reacting.

"So," he said, finally unable to stand the silence, "What the hell do you people want with me?"

Drake responded to the glare he directed at them with a scrutinizing look, trying to strip away all the false emotion Reggie was showing to discern what really made him tick. "Depends," the shorter mallard finally replied, offering no further explanation.

"On _what_?" Reggie questioned in agitation, already growing tired of the obtuse answers.

"All in good time. There's a lot more you need to understand first."

"Like why you look like _him_," Reggie snarled, unable to disguise his disgust with how similar Drake looked to the mallard that had been torturing him.

Drake snorted at this. "Oh, yeah. Negs and I are _real_ close."

Reggie considered this response for a moment before answering. "So, you're like.. his brother or something?"

A soft, bitter laugh sounded at the question. "Or something," Drake responded with a grumble.

The still thoroughly unsettled mutant stared suspiciously at the other as he turned away— his small family quickly following in his footsteps.

"You coming or what?" Drake questioned with a glance over his shoulder.

"Why should I?" Reggie growled darkly.

"For answers," he responded simply before continuing his slow journey down the dark tunnel before them.

Reggie hesitated, slightly taken aback by the response. For a moment he considered making a run for it, but aside from the fact he had no idea where he was, he couldn't deny that he wanted answers.

Wooded feet moved hesitantly, shifting to hold his weight as he stood shakily. He groaned slightly, placing a hand to his head as the movement aggravated the cranial injury he had forgotten was even there. The world began to spin, and for a moment he was sure he would pass out. He was still wobbling slightly and clutching his forehead when he finally managed to make his way down the entire stretch of the first passageway to join the others.

Drake lifted his brow at Reggie when he noted the behavior, the soft, noncommittal sound he produced in response betraying no part of his true thoughts.

"Sorry to crack your skull there," he said, his tone offering little validation that he truly cared. "But with the way you heal you'll be fine soon enough."

"Your concern is overwhelming," Reggie muttered in reply, still rubbing at his head as the throbbing already began to fade. He was starting to question if the ornery mallard was really a good guy or not.

Another noncommittal huff did little to convince the mutant mallard either way.

Reggie scowled at the lack of response but otherwise didn't respond as he followed them deeper into the dingy tunnels. Only the sound of his bark-covered talons dragging against the dirt floor accompanied them as they made their way further into the depths of the hidden fortress. The further down they went, the more on edge Reggie got, reacting instinctively as though he could feel the increased distance between him and his fellow foliage outside. The dark twist of mangled channels finally gave way to a large expanse of interconnected rooms and the wayward group of residents within. Reggie couldn't help but shift uncomfortably at the way they immediately began to stare at him, obviously entranced by his strange appearance. He looked around the space to keep from focusing on their gawking, a glance to the ceiling finally making something click in his mind. They weren't really _in_ the city at all, they were _underneath_ it.

"Welcome, to the underground," Drake stated as though he could hear Reggie's thoughts, arms stretching out to gesture to the space around them. "Time for the grand tour," he continued, leading the way down the steep set of stairs in front of them.

Reggie paused to light a cigarette in an attempt to calm his shaking as he followed the other three hesitantly down the rickety steps. He was unable to keep his gaze from wandering around to take in his surroundings more clearly as they walked. The living conditions looked miserable, the people even more so. They had obviously done their best to make as much of a home in the manmade cave as they could— setting up homes and filling the space with as many fixings as they could scavenge or steal from the world above.

Reggie wasn't really listening to anything Drake was saying as he inspected the space around him. He did his best to ignore the continued stares he received as their journey stretched on.

"Why do you live down here?" he questioned in an attempt to calm his nerves.

"Oh, you know, great school system, lovely view, quaint little downtown. Why the hell you think we live down here?!" Launchpad griped, shoving his face menacingly into Reggie's personal space.

"Alright, I get it! Stupid question," Reggie yelped, backing away from the imposing duck.

"Don't mind Launchpad, he goes a little stir crazy down here," Drake reassured.

"I was made for the air DW," the pilot replied, staring forlornly to the sky, "Not for wallowing in the fucking mud."

Most of what he said fell on deaf ears, Drake stiffening immediately at the mention of two simple letters. "_Don't_ call me that," he hissed viciously, apparently oblivious to the rest of what his larger companion had said.

Launchpad flinched at the growl, eyes widening as he realized that he had slipped up yet again.

"Uuh.. I didn't," he responded in a lame attempt to hide his guilt.

Drake glared at the answer but chose not to respond further, turning back to their resistant houseguest in an attempt to ignore how on edge hearing his old nickname made him.

"This is where we _have_ to live," he said to the nearby plant-duck to keep him from questioning the odd scene. "He's forced us from our homes and cut off our escape to the outside. So we live in the dirt, constantly moving and digging new tunnels, burring ourselves deeper and deeper to avoid his wrath."

"Why don't you just leave?" Reggie asked.

"HA! If only it were that easy," Gosalyn replied, kicking small bits of debris on the ground as they walked.

"You don't just _leave_ St. Canard," Drake clarified, "People can get into town by ferry, but the boats never stay, and no one ever gets on to leave. Once you're here, you're here forever until he either possesses you into his ranks or destroys you completely."

"Sure as hell would have been nice to know that _before_ I got here," Reggie muttered, puffing his cigarette in irritation.

"I can't believe you _didn't_ know that before you got here," the fidgeting teenager responded from beside him.

"It _is_ pretty common knowledge," Drake added.

"Not for someone who's been living under a rock most of their life," the mutant grumbled.

"And you're never heard about _any_ of this? The fucked up concerts, the "disappearing" bassists?" Launchpad queried.

Reggie shrugged at the question. "Not really... pretty much only what I learned standing in line for an audition."

"Wow, you really have been livin' under a rock, haven't ya?" the pilot responded.

"So, why'd you come here in the first place?" Gosalyn asked.

"Guess I just wanted my life to be easier for a while." Reggie replied

"That's fucking crazy!" Launchpad cackled obnoxiously.

Reggie couldn't help the annoyance that welled up at the laughter. "Yeah, _thanks_. I've noticed," he grumbled, irritation obviously growing.

"You don't seem like the type that would want so much attention," Drake noted.

The sulking mutant huffed audibly, stating his growing annoyance very clearly. "Apparently I'm just a glutton for punishment," he muttered with a slight snarl, eyes narrowing in irritation at the memories of all the bad situations he'd managed to put himself in.

The comment caused Drake to pause in his tracks, stopping to study Reggie for a moment as though it would force the guarded mallard to reveal his long buried secrets. Reggie shifted under the gaze, growing more uncomfortable by the second.

"_What_?" he finally snapped, barring his teeth at the increasingly irritating mallard.

Only silence met the question.

The lack of response only made Reggie more uneasy.

"Could you just tell me what the hell you want from me already?!" he yelled, his emotions slipping more and more from his control the longer he was trapped with them.

"Easy now, don't get your damn roots in a tangle," Drake responded snidely, continuing to walk as though nothing had happened at all. "I'm getting there. We need to get to our place first."

"Well, where the hell is that?" Reggie grumbled.

"Just follow the cries of chaos," Gosalyn mused distantly, jumping absently around the scattered machines and other random rubbish littering the ground.

The cries she was referring to became very evident as soon as they stopped in front of the banged up wooden door. Reggie backed up a few steps at the yells within, undeniably wary of whatever might be contained behind the flimsy wooden barrier. Drake led the way into the dark room, his spirited daughter quickly following behind him and Launchpad pausing to wait for Reggie to enter first. The larger mallard cocked a brow at him when the cautious bassist didn't move, toothy grin slipping across his face when Reggie lifted a brow back at him.

"Welcome to our humble abode," he said, bending over in a slight bow as he held out his arm in an invitation for the bassist to enter first.

Reggie scowled at the gesture but chose not to respond as he slipped past Launchpad and into the dimly lit room. From what he could see, the large space was something of a mixture between a kitchen, a dining room and a sleeping area— the hand built bunk beds and makeshift stove lending evidence of what it was used for. Aside from a large table situated near the back of the room, there was little else it contained to lend any evidence that it was a home at all. The décor was hardly what was most interesting about the room anyway. It was the pintsized occupants that stopped the bassist in his tracks.

Almost immediately the turmoil within hit him like a freight train. The shouts of dozens of small voices grated against his ears, the visual chaos almost too much to take in all at once. Reggie was nearly plowed over by a group of displaced miscreants, eyes widening as he jumped out of the way to allow them to pass. His jaw dropped slightly as he took in the rest of the pandemonium within the home. All around children chased each other with crude toys, jumping around and crying out in their juvenile playtime. A tabletop game of tug-of-war, an unnecessarily rough round of tag, art projects turned into an all-out war of paint, glue and pointy objects: it was pure chaos.

"These.. _all_ yours?" Reggie questioned, mouth still hanging open and shock evident in his tone.

Drake laughed loudly at the thought. "Oh, _hell_ no. They're not all mine. _That _one is more than enough to take 20 years off my life without having anymore," he stated matter-of-factly, gesturing to his boisterous daughter who was already stirring the surrounding mass of children into even more of a frenzy. "We just kind of look after them. Feed them, give them a place to sleep, that sort of thing. Other than that they're pretty much on their own."

"They're all… orphans then?" Reggie questioned, an abnormal amount of sympathy in his voice

"Yeah.. they are. Even Gosalyn is, but I adopted her way before all this shit started happening. I might as well have birthed her myself with all the crap she's put me through," Drake grumbled.

"Pfft, he loves it," Gosalyn stated, leaning in closer to Reggie to whisper loudly to him.

"Yeah, that's us," Launchpad chimed in, "The wandering orphanage of insanity."

The way he muttered was more than enough to voice his annoyance.

"Oh, it's not that bad," Drake replied nonchalantly, making his way through the rowdy mob with an obviously practiced ease.

"Easy for you to say," his younger companion grumbled, "You're not the one taking care of the little monsters."

"What are you complaining for? I thought you liked kids."

"I _do_, but for fuck's sake Drake, 30 is past my limit!"

"34," Drake corrected.

"Whatever! That's just worse!" Launchpad yelled, his normally cool demeanor starting to crack. Luckily the surrounding mass of children was enough to take his mind off it. "HEY! Stop gnawing on your sister Ted!" he cried to a small rodent currently chewing on his crying twin's arm, "Here, chew on this you little freak," he muttered, freeing his sister's arm and shoving some strange wooden toy between his teeth.

Drake hummed noncommittally from the back wall where he was rifling his way through several beat up old cupboards. He grumbled when the brief inspection failed to produce the item he was searching for. He turned back to his preoccupied friend who was currently doing his best to corral the mass of tots that had decided to use him as a human jungle gym.

"Quit messing with the children LP!" he snapped, "We need to find the damn book."

"Gonna be kinda tough there DW," Launchpad replied grumpily, trying his best to pull some of the small bodies from his limbs and torso.

"DON'T call me that! I swear I'm going to start HURTING you if you don't quit it!" Drake yelled, turning upon his daughter and doing his best to keep his temper under control. "Watch the kids Gos," he stated curtly, moving over to Launchpad to help pull the children off him.

"Uuuuh, come on dad. I don't wanna watch the freakin' kids," she whined— much to her adopted father's irritation.

"I said watch the damn kids Gosalyn!"

The fiery teenager groaned in response. "How come every time something interesting happens it's always _Gos watch the kids_," she grumbled in a mocking tone.

Despite the complaints, her obedience was clearly displayed by the fact that she made her way further into the mini mob. She trudged to the back where a particularly raucous group was still flinging art supplies at each other, stepping into the middle of the arts and crafts war and collecting her paint cans from the grip of tiny hands.

Reggie watched in curiosity as she shook the spray paint and uncovered a half-finished mural coating a large portion of the far wall. The scene was twisted and dark and very reminiscent of some similar designs he had seen before. He watched her for a moment as she grabbed can after can of spray paint, swiping over the lines with a fluidity that was oddly enthralling. The action made it very obvious who was responsible for the painted scenes sprawled across her father's various vehicles. He finally managed to drag his attention from the skilled artist as Drake and Launchpad lead the way into the next room. It wasn't necessary to ask the mutant to follow. He was glad to be free of the commotion. Kids always did make Reggie uneasy.

A cursory inspection of the new room quickly revealed that it was much like everything else he had so far seen in the underground hideout. It was a fairly small space; nothing like the larger room they had just come from. The floor and walls were covered in simple wood planks, and a few beat up pieces of furniture were scattered around the room, including a table near one of the walls and a few small cabinets, but otherwise there was little in the room at all. The only thing that caught Reggie's eye right away was one large bookcase in the back. It was set above what appeared to be some sort of desk; in actuality it was merely a large board held up by several stacked cinder blocks, but Reggie assumed that's what it was due to the maps and books spread across its surface.

Reggie couldn't resist sighing in relief when the door closed behind them—muffling the noise outside. All the racket was starting to aggravate his still sore head. He sat at the table leaning his back against the nearby wall and lighting a fresh cigarette as Drake immediately made his way to the collection of books and other random curiosities littering the shelves of the large bookcase. He grumbled irately to himself when a swift search of the lower shelves he normally used yielded no results. The soft griping never stopped as he began to stretch as best he could to reach the higher boards.

The quiet grunts resulting from Drake's struggle caught Launchpad's attention as he passed by the petite duck, spontaneously prompting him to assist. Without warning he gripped his shorter companion beneath his arms so he could lift him easily onto the high desk.

Drake was absolutely livid. His hands clenched at his side, his back hunching as a slight redness began to show on his face. He hated being reminded of his stunted stature. The fact that Gosalyn was already slightly taller than him was bad enough without Launchpad offering his unsolicited assistance.

"Gee, _thanks _LP," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"You're welcome," Launchpad replied, beaming obliviously as his partner fumed.

The chipper tone only served to increase the other duck's irritation. Angry fists clenched tighter, the crime fighter's body shaking ever so slightly in his ill-hidden anger. The lone eye narrowed in annoyance at the taller mallard as Drake turned to face him. He gripped the end of the other's bill pulling the appendage down harshly so that he could press his face closely to Launchpad's.

"WHAT have I told you about doing that LP?" he growled deeply.

The shocked bird thought this over for a second, searching his brain as if trying to pull the other mallard's exact words from his memory. "Uhhh, to… not to?" he finally replied, his voice muffled and amusingly distorted by the rough grip still holding the end of his bill together.

"Don't forget it," Drake answered, his sidekick's beak vibrating back into place as it was released.

Launchpad rubbed at where the other had been gripping his face, "Geez DW, no need to get your fuckin' feathers in a knot," he mumbled.

The absentminded pilot didn't even see the fist coming until it had already smacked him roughly in the face. "Oowww," he griped, rubbing at his cheek where the angry blow had been placed.

"Did I not JUST tell you saying that was going to start getting painful?" Drake snarled over his shoulder as he turned his attention back to the bookcase in front of him.

Launchpad chose not to comment to avoid angering the other duck even more. He pouted slightly, muttering under his breath as he moved sheepishly to join Reggie at the table. His eyes narrowed at the "are you serious?" look the mutant directed at him. He didn't appreciate the slight amusement Reggie got out of the large mallard being pushed around by his smaller companion.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," he grumbled, "He may be a little guy but he packs a fucking wallop!"

The thought coaxed Reggie's attention back to the softly grumbling duck who had since continued his search now that he could reach the upper shelves. He cocked a brow as the other began to mutter to himself more audibly. He was starting to seriously wonder about the other bird.

"He.. talk to himself a lot?" he questioned softly.

"Now that you mention it.. yeah," Launchpad replied with a slight laugh.

Drake growled gutturally at the comment, announcing his feelings about their discussion without actually saying anything; he did his best to stop the muttering anyway. The spectacle Drake provided prevented any of them from noticing when the door behind them slowly creaked open to let through a certain redheaded miscreant.

The two drakes at the table were so occupied with observing the griping crime fighter's search that they didn't even notice when she slipped onto the bench to sit beside Reggie.

She sat there silently for several moments before it became obvious the others were not going to notice her. "Psssst," she finally whispered obnoxiously into Reggie's ear, quite sufficiently gaining the mutant's attention.

Reggie yelped slightly, scooting away from her so swiftly that he actually forced himself right off the bench, landing with a thump on the hard floor. His scowl voiced his anger quite clearly without him having to say anything.

"Wow, you really are jumpy," Gosalyn mused, leaning an arm against the table as she continued to stare at him.

"Gosalyn!" Drake yelled as the sound of the altercation brought his attention to the group behind him. "I thought I told you to watch the kids!" his brow lifted as he noted the guitar she had brought with her, "And I thought I told you to get rid of that damn thing," he finished irately.

"They're fine," she stated, flipping a wrist dismissively at her fuming father and choosing to ignore his comment about her guitar entirely.

"That wasn't the point," Drake grumbled as he turned back to his search. He would deal with his disobedient daughter _after_ he found what he was looking for.

Gosalyn smirked in triumph when the reprimanding didn't continue, turning her attention back to the bassist who had since dusted himself off and settled back in his seat so he could rest his chin on the table. He never would quite understand why the position was so comforting to him since his transformation.

Only his heavy sigh broke the silence.

There was no way the antsy teenager beside him was going to allow him to keep sitting quietly.

"So, what's it like being in a famous metal band?" she asked eagerly, nearly bouncing in her excitement.

Reggie's brow lifted in confusion at her, angling an eye to the side to meet her suddenly star struck gaze. "_Horrible_," he muttered, never removing his chin from the hard tabletop.

The terse answer did little to stop the uncontrolled string of questions that suddenly poured from Gosalyn's mouth in response. Reggie gaped at her as he straightened his back, eyes widened in shock at the sudden assault of inane babble.

"Why the hell do you care?" he finally managed to question, choosing to ignore any specific inquiry.

"_Gosalyn_, unfortunately, is a big fan of the band," Drake answered grumpily, "And a big fan of _yours_ in particular."

"Yeeah, great stuff," Gosalyn stated, slightly dreamy look slipping across her face as she stared into space.

"You know your dad don't like that shit Gos," Launchpad stated, unable to keep the amused smirk off his face.

"Pfft, don't see why it's such a fucking problem," she muttered as she began to strum on the instrument she had brought.

"Language!" Drake yelled, taking a moment to glare at his daughter before returning to the shelves; he was finally starting to just throw stuff to the ground as his searching stretched on with no results. "First of all," he continued as though he hadn't said anything about her choice of words, "You're _supposed_ to be on our side. Second of all, I HATE METAL!" he finished angrily.

"Hey, I can hate the people and still like the band," she stated stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest in a display of refusal. "Besides, it's not very often an actual _good_ bassist comes along."

The fact that she received no reply at all seemed to annoy her more than being scolded. She turned her attention back to the plant duck beside her when the new round of silence became too much to handle. Reggie shifted uncomfortably under the gaze, glaring at her when she didn't say anything.

"You're one of the best you know," she finally stated, answering some question he never asked as though her thoughts had been obvious.

"You don't say," Reggie muttered unenthusiastically.

"Oh, yeah," she replied, suddenly pulling a small stack of CDs from her inner vest pocket. "Check it out."

Reggie picked one up in curiosity as she placed them on the table. A glance at the back lent an interesting piece of information. Beside every song the bassist that produced it was marked in bright red writing. It was very unsettling seeing 9 different names on one CD, all sprawled upon the back in crimson letters as though to mark the blood they spilt in pursuit of stardom. A painful sickness settled in his gut as a brief inspection of the other discs revealed a similar situation on each album. The sound of Gosalyn placing a dirty little stereo on the table and connecting her guitar to the small, battery powered amp she had finally tore his attention from the unsettling list of eliminated bassists.

"Nearly all the albums have at _least_ 5 different bassists on them," she said, "_Very_ few of them managed to produce more than two songs before Negaduck got sick of 'em. Not that it really made much difference sound wise. Only like three of them have actually been any good."

Reggie lifted a curious brow at her as she loaded one of the discs into the player, nearly jumping out of his green skin when music suddenly began to blare from the CD player's small speakers. Drake covered his ears with a furious snarl at the auditory assault, crying out at the pain that filled his head. Even Launchpad flinched at the noise.

It only got worse when she decided to jump onto the table and bang her head to the music, suddenly playing along with the rhythm and singing the lyrics.

Her voice sounded very much akin to a car crash or perhaps a bag full of squealing puppies. Reggie clenched his teeth at the unexpected blast of vicious sound, covering his ears in an attempt to block out the sound.

The impromptu jam session was put to an end as quickly as it had started— Launchpad yanking her guitar cord from the amp and switching off the stereo.

"Yeeah, that's enough of that," he muttered, rubbing at his own tortured ears once the music had stopped.

The energetic youth seemed essentially unfazed by the interruption, plopping back in her seat as though nothing had happened.

"Don't EVER do that again!" Drake roared, turning furiously on his daughter.

"So, what ya think?" she questioned to the mallard beside her, choosing to ignore her father completely.

She leaned in close to Reggie's face when he didn't respond, grin extending in her excitement.

The still flabbergasted bassist wasn't quite sure how to respond. "Um…. lay off the singing?" he answered, unable to think of anything else to say about the loud and obnoxious display.

"_Thank_ you," Drake responded, pausing his pursuit once again to send a genuinely grateful glance over his shoulder.

Gosalyn huffed at the quick response, plucking at her beat up instrument in annoyance. "Well what about the guitar?" she questioned.

Reggie shrugged noncommittally, "Practice."

"Sooo, I'm awesome then!" she yelled elatedly, huge grin spreading across her face as she once again invaded Reggie's personal space.

The wide-eyed mutant blinked stupidly at the statement; it wasn't a question. In her mind Gosalyn was the greatest musician ever.

"Yoou're…. a little crazy aren't ya?" he finally responded, choosing to ignore the pseudo question completely.

"A little doesn't _begin_ to cover it," Drake muttered as his search finally came to the last shelf. "Finally," he said at last, pulling down a heavy book that was nestled in a dark corner behind several dusty items.

He clutched the item close as he jumped down from the desk, making sure to avoid the pile of clutter he had created during his rummaging. He dropped the book unceremoniously onto the table as he slipped into the spot beside Launchpad. The slightly dingy piece of literature was obviously very old—the age of its material quite apparent even in the dim light shining throughout the room. The entire book was covered in handmade carvings, the delicate designs twisting their way all around the dark stone binding. Sprawled in bold and fancy letters across the cover were some words that Reggie didn't understand; he found himself wishing very much that he could.

"Oooh is that the book?" Gosalyn questioned in awe, running her fingers along the elaborate cover of the manuscript. Immediately her mouth began to once again pour out questions, the sound causing her father's head to throb.

He groaned audibly at the pain. "Uuuh! Will you _please_ leave and let the grownups talk! You're giving daddy an ulcer babe," he grumbled as he rubbed his temples.

"I AM a grownup!" she snapped defensively. "I'm 16 already and-"

"You're 15!" Drake replied curtly, cutting her off before she could continue.

"Only for 3 more weeks," Gosalyn grumbled.

The reminder that his little girl wasn't so little anymore only made Drake's mood worse. "I don't care! An if I hear much more lip from you I'm gonna fuckin' lose it!"

Gosalyn swallowed thickly at the statement as she watched her father's anger grow. Any time his grammar began to slip that badly she knew he really was losing it. The last thing she really wanted was to get her father overly worked up at the moment. She knew he was in no condition for it.

Drake winced as though on cue: an obviously pained expression slipping across his face as his skull throbbed, briefly losing control of his composure in the force of the emotion and physical pain.

Gosalyn sighed heavily, as the action reminded her just how much her beloved parent was actually suffering at the moment. She moved closer, slipping the grey hat from her father's head so she could lay a soft kiss on his feathers before turning reluctantly to leave. The faintest of smiles graced Drake's face as she moved away; it did not remain long, his usual serious demeanor quickly replacing it.

Reggie was suddenly very curious about the ailment the other was experiencing; it was very similar to Negaduck's and he couldn't help but wonder about it. He chose not to comment in favor of inspecting the intriguing manuscript now resting on the table.

"So, what the hell is that?" he queried, pointing a leaf-like finger at the antiquated book.

"The answer to all your questions," Drake replied, sliding the slightly disheveled item across the table so it rested in front of the curious mallard.

Reggie cocked a brow at the unspoken invitation to inspect the pages. He lifted the cover almost hesitantly, easing the heavy binding open gently as though it might injure him if he made any sudden moves. His brow furrowed at the incoherent barrage of letters within. Not a word of it was English, and although Reggie did speak bits and pieces of several languages, Latin was not one of them.

"_Sooo_, what does it say?" he questioned, continuing to turn the pages as though the later pieces of paper might lend him some information.

"Hell if I know," Drake muttered, leaning back slightly and crossing his arms.

The sulking mallard did not appreciate the annoyed look Reggie directed at him as he lifted his eyes from the book. He didn't even have to say anything for Drake to hear him loud and clear.

"Look, the damn thing is like a thousand years old. It's faded as hell and written in _Latin,_ which I do _not_ read by the way, so you'll have to cut me a fucking break here!" Drake retorted crossly.

Reggie sighed heavily, leaning back against the nearby wall behind him and pulling another cigarette from his coat. He paused to think for a moment as he inhaled deeply from the now lit tube, doing his best to collect his thoughts.

"I don't understand. How the hell am I supposed to get any answers from this if you don't know what it means?"

"I didn't say I didn't know what it meant; I just can't read the damn thing."

Reggie narrowed his eyes at the irritating answer.

"So what does it _mean_ then?" he growled in frustration.

He was starting to suspect that Drake enjoyed torturing him almost as much as Negaduck did.

"Means you're fucked dude," Launchpad decided to reply pointing at him with the fingers his cigar was nestled between.

The statement stopped Reggie mid turn of the page, tearing his attention from the book in front of him.

"Excuse me?"

Drake pulled the book back, flipping through it until he came upon the illustration he was looking for: a hand sketched schematic of what appeared to be some strange machine that Reggie was sure couldn't have even been _dreamt_ of a thousand years ago.

"This is much more than just a book," Drake answered, "It's a trove of dark knowledge that never should have been rendered."

Reggie's confusion was written all over his face. "I.. I still don't understand," he said meekly.

Drake didn't respond at all at first; he just regarded the leafy duck in front of him in contemplation, considering what he could say that would make it easiest to understand. He flipped a few more pages ending on a picture of a very familiar looking form.

Reggie's eyes bulged at the drawing, the faded sketch almost making him want to bolt for the door. He cringed pathetically at the sight of the exact likeness of the statue that had so terrified him: the beast of stone and steel that towered over the devil room within the band's manor.

"Just by your reaction I can assume you are familiar with this particular abomination," Drake said.

A brief nod was his only response.

"I suppose that thing is really where it all started. It is a true monster trying to pass itself off as an innocent hunk of stone. In actuality it's a hideous demon with no business existing in our world," he trailed off for a moment as though searching his own thoughts, "That statue is possessed by a monster," he continued, "An entity that can only truly exist through possession. A sharing of souls and vessels that allows it to exist in this world. I've been told the woman who wrote this book was taken over by this spirit when she rendered it, opening a door to some realm through which this creature entered our world and laid forth the instructions for a machine."

"A machine?" Reggie questioned, his voice weak from shock.

Drake nodded tersely, flipping pages yet again to show the hand sketched details of the device in question.

"That so called _home _of theirs isn't really a home at all. Well.. aside from the top few levels of course. The rest is a mechanism. An evil machine, powered by death and controlled by a madman."

"A machine that does _what_?" Reggie questioned, unable to keep his growing nerves out of his voice.

"Heh, that is the million dollar question ain't it," Launchpad grumbled, inhaling deeply from his cigar.

"Truth is, we don't really know," Drake clarified, "It's supposed to be able to grant ultimate power through the merging of a worthy soul with the creature housed within that statue… but we're not totally sure what that means. All we know for sure about that machine is that it can tear souls apart. _But_, it can also merge them together," he finished, demonstrating the idea by intertwining his fingers as though they were two souls coming together.

"How do you know all this?" Reggie questioned.

"Cause I built the damn thing. How the hell do you think I know all this?" Drake retorted irately.

"So what does that have to do with you? I mean, if he's your family or something and you expect me to help with this fucked up shit I—"

Reggie cut himself off when the question prompted a round of dark, grunting laughter from the other mallard's bill.

"You just don't fucking get it do you?" Drake said, ironic snorting stopping as he lifted his narrowed eye to face Reggie. "He's not _related_ to me. He _IS _me."

Reggie's jaw dropped, the sentence rolling over and over in his head as though to assure him the other bird had actually said it.

"What do you mean he _is_ you?"

"I mean he's ME! Well… part of me anyway," he sighed heavily, body slumping in his depression. "He's the other half of my soul which I tore from myself in a desperate attempt to save someone I cared for very much. He's the very blackest pit of my soul, my harshest, darkest, and most distasteful of desires.. But he's also my passion. My ingenuity… my lust for life…" he trailed off despair suddenly written very clearly on his face. "And I'm the sense of justice, the conscious… the regret. The love and the caring without the passion to live or feel joy," he continued, doing his best to keep going despite the anguish in his heart. "But he needs me as much as I need him… and that's his weakness. We were torn apart by that machine and he's been fighting to survive on his own ever since."

"What the hell does that mean?" Reggie asked, brow raised in confusion.

"A person cannot live without their soul Reginald. Not you, not me…not even him. And half of it is not good enough."

Drake turned the pages again flipping to one with a drawing of two beings splitting from one another: a black and a white soul in obvious torment with coils of flesh still binding them together despite the forceful separation.

"He was birthed into this world as pure insanity and anger. He didn't even _look_ the same. He looked like something ripped from a dark and colorless realm. Like… like color never even _existed_. The second I saw him I knew I made a big mistake… but, as I'm sure you can guess, by then it was already too late. Once I let him loose I couldn't stop him. And I still haven't been able to. The only saving grace is that he hasn't been able to stop me either. Negaduck is no longer just that part that was torn from me. He has very much created his own entity… and that's exactly what he wants."

"He's.. trying to survive without you?" Reggie questioned.

Drake nodded.

"The only thing that has been keeping us alive this whole time is his ability to use that machine to ingest souls. Devouring innocents to extend his own life… and incidentally mine by extension."

"So, all those screams.. they're…" Reggie whispered, speaking more to himself than anyone else.

Drake regarded him thoughtfully for a moment but offered no reply. "Tortured souls are always more nourishing," he answered softly after a moment.

"Why would you do this?" Reggie continued disgust clearly voiced by his tone.

"I.." he couldn't control the small choked cry he let out at the thought of what had pushed him to do it. "I.. was in love," he said, the final word barely a whisper. "And love makes us do crazy things…. I was just so desperate to save her. I thought… I thought it would make me stronger. And in a way I suppose it did. Unfortunately, as much as I hate to admit it, he _is_ the one running the city and I'm the one hiding in the dirt."

He paused obviously trying to collect himself enough to continue.

"Morgana," he whispered, the world falling away for a moment in the force of his haunting memories.

For a moment it looked very much as though he might cry.

"Good usually loses because evil does not play by the rules," he continued as though he hadn't said the name at all. "I just… I just couldn't let all those innocent people die to save her. I thought if I could just shut down my conscious.." he choked up once again, unable to continue as his whole body tensed at the knowledge of what he had done. "I thought I could save her from the man that stole her from me, but I just couldn't beat him as I was. He had an army and all I had was myself."

A gruff clearing of the larger mallard's throat made Drake pause and role his eyes. "And my trusty sidekick Launchpad of course."

"_Thank_ you," Launchpad replied in satisfaction.

Drake couldn't help the brief lopsided smile; Launchpad always seemed to manage to keep his thoughts from delving too deep into depression.

"I couldn't beat him," he continued once he had composed himself, "But Negaduck could. The book mentions.. an immortality of a sorts that the two halves possess once split from one another. An _inability of death_ I believe it says."

The cocked brow was enough to say that Reggie didn't quite trust the validity of the statement.

"Oh, don't believe me eh? Well I got the scars to prove it that's for damn sure," he griped, "He skewered my head with a pole, that's how I lost this one," he said pointing to his empty eye socket, "_This_ one, nearly took my fucking head off," he continued pointing to the large scar on his neck, "He tore my HEART out once and the damn thing just grew right back!"

Reggie couldn't keep the somewhat repulsed look off his face at the laundry list of fatal injuries. There was something very unsettling about the other's inability to die that had nothing to do with Drake himself; it dredged up memories of nightmares: the agony of Reggie's own torturous death that happened over and over in his dreams. Each night was different and more horrifying than the last.

"Sounds like a pretty sweet deal eh?" Drake continued seemingly unaware of Reggie's true feelings on the matter. "Well it's not!" he snapped, "Dying is _NOT_ cool. It fucking HURTS!" he paused for a moment, snatching Launchpad's freshly lit cigar from his hand and taking a long drag before continuing. "But you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" he finished, smoke billowing from his bill as he spoke.

Reggie's eyes widened at the comment, suddenly terrified that the other duck might just be able to see straight through his head and into his thoughts. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he questioned nervously.

Launchpad and Drake shared a quizzical look, obviously shocked by the response.

"Yooou.. _can't_ seriously not remember," Launchpad replied in disbelief.

"Remember _WHAT_?!" Reggie yelled, unable to contain his growing fear from morphing into fury.

Drake took one more hit from the cigar still clenched between his fingers before handing it back to his friend and regarding the mallard in front of him thoughtfully.

"He has been experimenting on you Reginald," he finally answered, the softness of his voice somehow lending his sympathy. "And it has not been pleasant."

Reggie didn't even know how to respond. He just sat there staring, mouth agape and mind reeling. "How.. how would you even know that?" he finally sputtered out.

"There is only so much information we can get from that fortress of his," Drake replied, leaning forward and folding both arms on the table. "But the lower levels are one place he can't monitor constantly so we do have some eyes and ears down there and.…. we've seen him do it.. killing you over and over almost every night trying to figure out your weaknesses."

Reggie's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding as the panic within him rose. "Y- you're trying to tell me that he's... he's been," he cut himself off unable to even acknowledge out loud that his dreams had not been dreams at all but some retched reality.

He began to shake violently, breath coming out in panicked pants as visions of his dreams— no, memories— ran violently through his head.

"You alright there Reg?" Launchpad questioned, genuinely concerned about the other's state of mind.

Reggie gawked at him like he'd grown two heads. "No, great! I just hear my nightmares are actually memories of him torturing me! I'm fucking FABULOUS!" he screamed, banging his fists on the table.

"Alright now calm down, I know this is all a lot to take in," Drake tried to reason.

"Understatement of the fucking century," Reggie growled, crossing his arms and glaring.

Drake sighed heavily at the response as his head throbbed. He decided they could all use a little calming down at the moment.

"LP, I believe it's time for a drink. Do fetch the rum will you?" he said, moving from his seat and making his way towards the back of the room.

"Sure thing D—err, Drake. I meant Drake," Launchpad sputtered, catching himself before he spoke the dreaded nickname yet again.

Drake's look stated very clearly that the pilot better watch himself. "Just make sure _Reginald _doesn't hyperventilate himself to death," he grumbled.

"Ugh, would you _STOP_ calling me that?!" Reggie griped using the comment as an excuse to get his mind off the terrifying thoughts in his head and calm his rapid breathing, "_He_ always calls me that, and in case you haven't noticed you sound almost exactly like him. It's weirding me out!"

"Yeah, they certainly have their similarities," Launchpad responded with a slight snort.

"Don't EVER say that! I _REFUSE_ to be compared to that fucking menace!" Drake snapped defensively, growling and swearing under his breath as his moved away from them.

"Well, he sure as hell has a fucking temper like his," Reggie answered in annoyance, perching an elbow on the table so he could lean his chin against his palm as he watched the grumpy mallard storm into a small adjacent chamber.

"Go fuck yourself bush face!" Drake yelled from the other room, his normally strong composure weakening in his debilitated state.

"… and he's _insulting_ like he is," Reggie muttered irately at the muffled comment.

Launchpad laughed at the response, reaching to the small cabinet behind him to retrieve the large bottle of alcohol within. "Yeah, I suppose you can take the lunatic out of the duck but you can't take his temper… or ego.. or tendency to be a bit of an ass.." The sentence just kind of drifted off as the pilot considered the two duck's similarities for a moment.

Reggie didn't even have a chance to respond before Drake returned— several mismatched drink glasses in hand. He dropped himself back into his seat with little more than a grumble, placing the three cups unceremoniously onto the table. Launchpad filled the glasses quickly, wasting little time in downing his first drink before filling the vessel once again.

Reggie simply swirled the amber liquid slowly, staring into the churning depths as though they might lend some solace to ease his shaking nerves. He finally downed the alcohol, shuddering and grimacing slightly at the still unpleasant sensation of the liquor.

Launchpad snorted slightly at the display. "Not much of a drinker are ya?" he questioned, refilling his own glass once again.

Reggie huffed at the comment. "I'm sure as hell gettin' there," he muttered irately.

The alcohol did nothing to ease the barrage of emotion assaulting him, the questions still gnawing at his brain unwilling to give him a moment's peace. His face twisted into a furious snarl as the thought of the vicious attacks that had haunted his dreams resurfaced; the knowledge of being so violated making his blood run cold.

"_Why_ keep killing me?" he growled quietly.

It wasn't necessary for him to clarify what he meant.

For once he could clearly see the sympathy on Drake's face. If anyone knew how it felt to die over and over, he did.

"He never creates someone as powerful as you without knowing how to control them," the one-eyed duck replied, "You were very much a first in that regard. He's been desperately trying to figure out how to kill you ever since. He's avoided using that machine for years because he had no idea what it would result in. It shows how desperate he's getting. He's running out of time to be free of me, and you're the last thing he needs… he can't collect your soul if you can't be killed."

"Then why did he mutate me in the first place?!"

"Keeps the fans happy," Drake replied with a shrug, "Besides, for a soul to really be much use to him it requires a certain.. potency, and putting you through such a significant trauma is the perfect way to accomplish that."

"I still don't understand why he needs _me_ so badly. If you two are so invincible, then what's his fucking hurry?"

Drake laughed forlornly at the question. "Neither of us can be killed, but that doesn't mean we aren't dying," he flipped to the next page in the neglected book, showing an image of the two spirits dissolving into nothingness— oozing into empty space with eyes hallow and mouths agape in silent screams as though they were simply melting painfully away. "The book says that after so long both halves of the split soul will begin to "fade". Essentially this means our essence will degrade so badly that we will be simply unable to continue living and all that we.. _I,_ was will cease to exist. All we can do is continue this stalemate until we either fade away together or he wins… but without you, he _can't_ win. You're the only chance we have."

A sharp jab of pain made it quite impossible for Drake to continue. He couldn't help the groan of agony that escaped him, gripping his head with both hands in desperation to make the stabbing ache go away. Launchpad quickly filled his empty glass, Drake grabbing the vessel gratefully and downing the alcohol in one swallow. He sighed heavily as the liquor eased the migraine slightly, still rubbing at his temples in pain.

Reggie cocked a curious brow at him, unable to resist inquiring about the display. "So, these headaches are.. killing you or something?" he questioned suspiciously.

"Heh, the headaches are just a symptom of the fading," he stated, the roll of his eye stating his annoyance, "It goes way beyond that."

"So, he eats souls to keep his body from just… dying?"

"Yes," Drake responded simply.

"So all these people I've met.. they all lost their souls?" Reggie queried, still somewhat unable to believe all the information he had been given.

"Well not _all_ of them, but most of them I'm sure. And in a lot of cases it's only a piece of their souls. It leaves a large majority of people as nothing but empty husks, devoid of any thought or emotion. There's nothing in their head or their heart but what Negaduck plants there. But some souls are a bit more.. special than that. Those people retain the strongest feelings they possessed when they were whole. Take their first bassist for example, he was left with nothing but his fury to keep him living."

"So, Benny and Jake?" Reggie trailed off eyes widening as he realized the people he had been interacting with who were half a soul and he never even noticed. "… even Darla?"

Drake laughed loudly at the question, obviously finding the answer so obvious it was almost funny. "_Darla_? That soul crushing witch of a tycoon?!" he said, "She was one of the first! And she is _very_ largely responsible for all this. Now, Benjamin he left intact. He figured it would hurt him more to see his lover turned into a heartless bitch than to turn him too. His soul wasn't really good _enough_ to be of any use anyway. Lucky for us. That dog has been feeding us a _lot_ of useful information."

"Wait, Benny is on _your_ side?" Reggie questioned in disbelief.

"Of course. Jake too, although he's almost more a hindrance than a help," Drake mumbled in obvious annoyance at the disgruntled duck. "Only that bitch Darla really _wants_ Negaduck to succeed."

Reggie couldn't help but be somewhat angered by the degradation of Darla's character—even if it was true. He didn't want to admit that one of the few people he had ever felt comforted by was truly so evil. He did his best to keep the feelings to himself.

"What about Sapphire?" he asked to avoid the thoughts.

"Ha! Sapphire is nothing but a high priced whore. He usually leaves the _working girls_ intact. He found them to be less… _enthusiastic_ once their souls were eaten," Drake responded.

"… and the rest of the band?"

"Nah, he couldn't risk messing with them. He needs them too much… for now. Sparks especially. Without him he could never channel the amount of electricity it takes to power that damn machine."

"How do you know that?"

"Cause that's how I powered the thing in the first place," the crime fighter muttered, obvious regret in his voice. "Look, you know the deal now, so are you going to help us or not?!" he continued, growing more irritated at the constant questioning.

Reggie narrowed his eyes at him, suddenly finding himself hating the other. "Why should I?" he growled.

"Cause you are exactly what he needs and he'll kill you to get what he wants."

"What the hell is so special about me?!" Reggie cried, barely able to control his growing fear.

Drake sighed heavily, trying to calm his nerves to give a reasonable response. "Most souls aren't really much good to him. Just basic nourishment. The souls he really needs are a bit more.. complicated than that. The book refers to these as _significant_ souls."

Reggie lifted his brow in confusion but otherwise didn't respond, deciding to allow the other to continue uninterrupted.

"He needs several of these significants to make the final stage of the soul merging process work. 7 to be exact: 7 significant souls to make one merging of monster and man. The first 6 have no particular order or specifications. They just have to be significant souls. But the last one… the last one is special. It must be in a state of "living death" as the book puts it. A soul that has given up when it's vessel refuses to. A spirit brought into this world in the wake of death, tortured and unwanted throughout its entire life. You are a host to a dead soul Reginald… and he wants it."

Reggie stiffened at the truth of how well the aforementioned criteria actually fit him—it dredged up some very painful memories. Not that he was about to mention it.

"What the hell do you know about me?" he questioned softly: the weakness of his voice betraying the truth of how he felt.

"Enough," was the curt reply.

"So, if he needs me so bad for this all to work why even ask for my help? Why not just kill me and keep him from using me?" Reggie continued, trying his best to ignore the feelings the conversation was stirring up.

"Well, first of all it wouldn't help anyway," Drake replied indifferently, "If you're dead and we're left to simply drift away, all his possessed followers will just wander aimlessly instead of dying; sucking souls and spreading their disease everywhere they go. It wouldn't be a solution it would just be a different way to die. But besides that I'm a good guy— despite my rather rough exterior—and my _painfully_ engrained morals would never allow me to do that. I only kill when I absolutely have to, and in the case of his so called fans.. most of them are worse than dead already. They've lost their _souls _Reggie, and once they have been taken they can never be given back. I'm doing them a favor. And I did _you_ a favor by taking you away from that madman, so the least you could do is help me!"

"Why?! All you care about is using me for what YOU want! I really don't see how that's much different from what I'd get from him!" Reggie yelled, suddenly furious at the idea of being around either of the lookalike mallards.

"This isn't about what you or I want!" Drake snarled in response, standing from his seat so he could stare down at the other bird. "This is about saving all those innocent people out there. If you don't help he's going to destroy the entire fucking world!"

"I don't care!" Reggie roared, standing and backing away from the others. "I'm tired of being used and tortured and treated like I'm DIRT! What the hell do I care if the whole world tears itself apart?! All I ever got from life was a world full of SHIT, so quite frankly I'm not sure I fucking care!"

"This isn't about your shitty past, and you know it!" Drake yelled furiously, advancing on the retreating bassist, "You're just a fucking coward! That's exactly why you haven't ended it yourself. You're just too much of a pussy to actually do it!" Drake was screaming by that point, absolutely livid at the other's reaction. He would do anything it took to save his city and that included doing everything in his power to _force_ him to help.

Reggie was too furious to even respond: furious at the truth behind the statement, furious at everything he had endured, furious at the world. He snarled angrily at the bird, voicing his wrath with a feral growl as he turned and stormed away. He was already running at full speed by the time he made his way back into the kid filled room—climbing over anything in his path and stretching his limbs to get away from the two avians behind him as fast as possible. He sprinted through the great hall, forcing his exhausted body to move as quickly as he could manage in an attempt to escape the yells chasing him from behind.

The only thing he could think to do was retreat up the same path that they had come from, delving back into the twisted labyrinth of tunnels in his desperation to escape. Panicked pants sounded into the maze of passageways as his anxiety grew, bouncing off the walls as he tried desperately to remember how to get back to the room they had come from. He made his way through each channel almost entirely on instinct, finally finding his way back into the room he had woken up in.

His heart was pounding so fast he could barely breathe, his chest shuddering under the force of his terrified gasps for air. He finally set eyes upon the only exit the room had to offer: a heavy barricade of wood and metal blocking the only way out. Leafy hands grasped desperately at the pieces that made up the door, pulling futilely on the bits of twisted iron in an attempt to pry the entryway open.

"Alright, just hold it _right_ there," a dark voice growled, forcing the terrified mutant to spin around and face the mallard behind him.

Drake stood before him, teeth bared and shotgun focused on the now shaking mutant bird. "I'm NOT just going to let you leave!" he yelled, the angry tone unable to disguise his anxiety.

"And you're not going to kill me either so we have a bit of a problem don't we?!" Reggie retorted.

Drake snarled at this, eye narrowing and jaw clenching in his fury. He knew Reggie was right. He wasn't capable of killing him for no reason. Despair suddenly filled his expression as the realization that his last hope was slipping through his fingers overwhelmed him. He dropped his arms slowly, forcing the barrel of the gun to shift its focus to the floor. The mixture of pain and despair on his face hurt Reggie far more than a bullet from his gun would have. He was suddenly very unsure of what to do.

He wouldn't even have a chance to decide. A sudden, sharp creaking began to fill the space, steeling the attention of both birds as the sound grew louder. Drake's eyes immediately widened at the noise, his already white feathers paling in dread.

"Oh, not NOW," he moaned, eye shifting along the groaning wood surrounding them.

All at once, a flood of water burst through the heavy door before them as the cognizant liquid finally sought out the entrance to the hideout. The water seeped forth in eerie tendrils as it reached its way into the underground haven and began to form into its normal shape.

Drake didn't even try to watch the scene unfold, shielding his face instead as the force of the shattering door flung bits of debris at them. He was very protective of his only good eye.

The watery figure that now stood in the entryway was barely lit by the weak lights in the room, but the silhouette was more than enough to make Reggie quiver in terror. The sight had him immediately backing away from the sopping dog, subconsciously moving so that Drake served as a barrier between him and the drummer.

"Uunh, not YOU," Drake groaned miserably, "I can't catch a fucking break can I?!" He sighed deeply before continuing, trying his best to compose himself. "What the hell do you want?" he growled.

"I think you know damn well what I came here for, Mallard," Bud snarled, his distaste for the bird quite apparent in his voice.

"Oh, I don't think that's going to work out. You see, I need him," Drake stated, crossing his arms and scowling threateningly.

"Why? So you can _use_ him?" Bud questioned darkly, moving closer as the others began to back away.

"Oh, and what are _you_ planning to do with him? Just hand him over and let this happen?!" Drake yelled.

"It's none of your fucking business what I do!"

"When it involves MY city it sure as hell is!"

Bud narrowed his eyes at the short duck, pausing long enough to give Reggie a chance to interject.

"How the hell did HE find you?!" the terrified mutant cried, panic evident in his voice.

"Oh, he always fucking finds us," Drake grumbled, obviously irritated at the truth in his own statement. "We just have ourselves a little agreement. Don't we, _dog_?"

Bud growled deeply, advancing slowly on the shorter man as his desperation to get Reggie out of there quickly grew.

"Look, I don't have time to shoot the fucking breeze. I'll just take Reggie and be on my way."

"Like HELL you will!" the thoroughly terrified bassist shouted, backing further away from the dripping dog.

Bud didn't wait for either of them to put up more of a fight, sweeping forward and grabbing Reggie roughly by the arm as the other bird advanced upon him. He flung Drake back with a terrifying ease, knocking the wind out of him as he hit the wall. He cried out in pain as the impact aggravated his migraine, struggling to keep the agony at bay. Shaking legs lifted him off the ground as quickly as they could manage, the hazy sight of Bud pulling the struggling plant duck away spurring Drake to his feet. He staggered slightly as his migraine impaired his vision and made his whole world spin.

Reggie dug his feet into the ground in an attempt to keep himself in place, screaming in terror as the other tried to pull him away. His cries stopped when Drake recovered and turned his gun on Bud in a useless attempt to get him to stop.

"I WON'T LET YOU TAKE HIM!" Drake roared, desperate to keep the other mallard in his sight.

"And what are you gonna do about it?" Bud sneered, water bubbling in his inability to control his anger.

Drake opened his mouth to answer but closed it again as he slowly accepted the fact that there just _wasn't_ anything he could do. He lowered the weapon in defeat. Reggie's heart sank at the other duck's submission eyes widening in terror at the realization that he was absolutely powerless to save him. He began to struggle once again, soft whimpers falling from his bill as he resisted the terrifying hold. The feel of the other's water made him sick to his stomach; the only touch that had ever been comforting to him was now more terrifying than any other.

Drake growled deeply as the watery mammal turned to leave, pulling Reggie behind him. "You really are nothing but his fucking dog, aren't you?" he hissed.

Bud immediately stiffened in fury at the question. "You don't know a damn thing about me!" he screamed, turning back and raising his body to tower above the short duck.

"Oh, I'm sorry I was thrown off by the _bitch_ _collar_," Drake snarled defiantly.

Bud was too angry to even respond. He simply gripped the struggling mutant tighter, wrapping him up in his dripping arm and lifting him off the ground to keep him from getting free. The increase in the hold's intensity only served to make Reggie even more terrified, screams pouring from his bill as Bud swept him from the room and up the mass of tunnels leading to the surface. The fluid grip didn't loosen until they made their way outside the abandoned building that the passage lead to, Bud finally setting the quivering bassist back on his roots so he could drag him into the streets.

"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME!" Reggie screamed, pushing at the watery fingers still gripping his wrist.

"Please Reggie," Bud begged, his previous anger fading as he tried to calm the terrified mallard, "Just listen to what I have to say for one second."

The attempt at a comforting tone did nothing to ease Reggie's fear. "I don't want to hear what you have to say!" he screamed increasing his fight to free his arm from Bud's grip. "And I DON'T want you to FUCKING TOUCH ME!"

"I'm trying to help you god damnit!" Bud yelled desperately, latching on to both of Reggie's forearms and pulling him closer in an attempt to keep him from moving away.

It was no use; Reggie was livid, driven insane by pure panic. He couldn't even look at the other mutant, eyes clenched tightly and roots scraping the ground as he screamed into the darkness.

"Just LISTEN to me Reggie! PLEASE! You have to get out of here and you don't have a lot of time! You have no idea what he's going to—."

The sharp squeal of tires against the hard asphalt cut Bud off before he could finish, the familiar sight of Elmo's precious car silhouetted against the faint light of the street lamps making his heart sink.

Reggie's entire body stiffened at the eerie glow of red eyes glaring at them as Negaduck stood on his seat so that he could see them more clearly.

"I see you found my bassist," he said, satisfied edge to his voice. "Where's my other bitch?" he questioned in addition, referring to his allusive lookalike.

It took the drummer a moment to compose himself enough to respond. "I.. don't know," he said, hoping the response was convincing enough. "All I found was him. He was wandering through the abandoned district trying to get out of the city."

Crimson eyes narrowed at the dog, stating very clearly that he knew the story was bullshit. "Of _course_ you did," Negaduck hissed. "Just get in the fucking car," he finished, dropping himself back into his seat.

Bud hesitated, suddenly finding himself incapable of handing his love over to the malicious mallard. Reggie pushed away when the other didn't react, finally freeing himself from the fluid grip and making his way towards the car. He yanked the back door open and shoved Jack over roughly by planting an elbow in his ribs to deliver his demand. Jack grunted slightly but didn't say anything about the rough request; he knew damn well why Reggie wanted him in the middle and he wasn't about to put up any resistance. The fuming and scared bassist closed the door swiftly behind him, sinking down in his seat and crossing his arms tightly as an angry scowl settled on his face.

Bud watched the scene with a heavy heart, his entire body slumping in his despair. Negaduck sneered angrily at the act, quickly growing impatient at being kept waiting.

"Get. In. the fucking car," he snarled, scowl only growing when the other still didn't respond. "NOW BUD!"

The drummer jumped slightly at the fury behind the command, finally forcing his reluctant fluid to slip into the empty seat.

"Good dog," Negaduck muttered, turning his attention to his recently reacquired bassist once the other was settled. "Nice to see you again _Reginald_," he said gruffly, "So tell me," he continued when the other offered no response, pulling a large side arm from his coat so he could press it beneath Reggie's chin. "What the hell did he tell you?"

Reggie swallowed roughly at the unspoken threat. "Enough to know you won't kill me just yet," he replied, trying his best to keep the fear off his face and out of his voice.

"Doesn't mean I won't _hurt_ you," Negaduck growled in response, pushing the gun roughly against his neck to emphasize his point.

Reggie swallowed nervously as the firearm was removed from his skin; if only he didn't know how true that was.

"Now get us the hell outta here Sparks," the aggravated mallard snapped at the rodent beside him. "I ain't gettin' any younger."

It was all the urging Elmo required. He shifted the car quickly into drive, speeding off into the waning darkness.

Reggie couldn't stop the soft shudders that spread through his body as the cool air licked his skin and erratically tousled his hair. Everything that Drake had said kept turning over and over in his head, begging the inescapable question of what was going to happen to him next. He couldn't help but grip at his own arms in an ineffective grasp for comfort as his heart sank into his stomach.

He suddenly found himself wishing very badly to be kidnapped again.

* * *

><p>Holy plotline batman! Nooow we have ourselves a proper story. As for what's gonna happen to Reggie next? Well, you'll just have to tune in next time and see now won't you.<p>

Till next time dearies!

To the Ari cave!


	11. Through the Fire

Author's note: Oooh yeah, chapter 11 at last! Kinda pathetic how long it took me to finish this one but hey, I've been busy.

Enjoy your bassist abuse!

Warnings: gratuitous violence courtesy of your friendly neighborhood Negaduck.

* * *

><p>Reggie's suite was no longer a room at all. It had been transformed into a frigid prison: like the last stop on a mortician's cold slab before succumbing to the clammy hands of hell. It felt as though the entire space was freezing all around him.<p>

He had been trapped for countless hours, pacing the darkened chamber and trying desperately to find a way to escape. His doors and windows leading to the outside had been barred and his light cut off by dark shrouds plastered against the glass. Negaduck knew how much he needed the sun; he wanted to exhaust Reggie to the point he could almost die simply from lethargy. Lack of sun couldn't actually kill him, but it could certainly make him extremely weak. Between the barriers keeping his sunlight out and the iron slabs blocking his escape Negaduck had certainly fixed the problem of Reggie using his abnormally elastic limbs to escape out the window or over the balcony.

The fatigued bassist clutched at the bars on the window, doing his best to hold his weakening body up by clutching one of the steel rods in his shaking grip. His free hand pulled desperately at the black material cutting off his sun, leaves picking at the thin plastic covering in a desperate attempt to peel away enough of the obstruction to let in at least a gleam of life-saving sun. The leafy digits were horribly ill-suited for the task. They bled from the torture, tearing slightly from the continued abuse as he clawed over and over at the window.

Reggie whimpered softly as his head fell against the cold metal and his eyes slipped closed in exhaustion, his will fading as his attempts stretched on with no progress. Blue eyes flew open when he finally felt the material give way beneath his fingers. Strength filled him as he peeled desperately at the small hole, frantically attempting to widen it. He wasn't able to extend it much, but it was enough for him to peer through the opening and feel a small taste of what little illumination was left outside. He practically could have cried at the faint rays that fell upon his face. It was the first glimmer of light he'd seen all day. Unfortunately, it would also be the last.

He gripped forlornly at the bars, watching as the last shining rays of sun were stolen away by twilight. Leafy fingers finally released the metal shafts he was still clutching as the golden orb slid below the horizon and the last of the sunlight slipped away with it. Reggie slid slowly to the floor as the exhaustion overcame him. He was allowed to sit there but a moment before his situation got drastically worse.

There was nothing to announce the intrusion before the heavy door struck the wall with a bang, the steel entry flying open as it was pushed forcefully inwards. Reggie cringed at the sight of not only Negaduck, but two guards flanking him on either side— towering over him with their enormous stature. The two large ungulates were beyond menacing. The red-eyed overlord didn't normally bother with any type of bodyguard (for the most part he was more than capable of protecting himself despite his small size) but considering his recent bassist-napping he wasn't willing to take any chances as Reggie was transported. The slight advancement of the towering elk to his right immediately had the cowering mutant struggling to his feet, back pressed to the wall behind him in desperation as he begged the boundary to suck him into its borders so he might hide from his fate. It was as though he could feel the harsh and terrifying grip before he was even in their clutches.

The two horned guards each grabbed Reggie by an arm, pulling him easily from the room. A barely audible whimper escaped the trapped bird's bill as he tried to ignore the horrible sensation of being touched. Inside he was screaming. The feeling soaked into his skin and burned his insides. It was like being violated all over again. He didn't even try to struggle, his body far too weak to fight despite how much the contact terrified him. He dug his teeth forcefully into the inside of his cheek, biting the flesh roughly do distract himself from the wretched feeling. It was all he could do to keep himself from screaming to be let go. Somewhere in his fatigued mind he knew Negaduck would only punish him more for the excessive show of weakness.

They practically dragged him all the way into the devil room without a word passing between them, stopping before the great beast that took up residence in the chamber. Reggie's entire body shook under the statue's stare, his form sinking down as much as it could while still in the clutches of the two massive mammals restraining him. He had been afraid of it before, but now that he knew what secret it harbored it absolutely terrified him. Blue eyes lifted dreadfully to finally meet the horrifying gaze of the monster before him. He couldn't restrain his terror. He could almost hear the thing whispering dark thoughts in his ear. In a moment of desperation he tried to yank his arms from the tight grip torturing them. His brief attempt to pull away was put to a quick end when the ram to his left twisted the leafy limb harshly. Reggie winced at the abuse, his form recoiling slightly in pain as Negaduck made his way to stand before the stone figure. Red eyes stared at the creature, grin overtaking the singer's face as he met the gaze of the statue. It was as though they were sharing some silent conversation that whispered promises of destruction.

It was very unnerving.

As if the demon was responding to some unspoken request, the ornate fireplace soon began to push itself backwards, stone scraping against stone as the great hearth was forced away from them. Negaduck made his way almost lazily onto the now exposed platform, satisfied grin still planted firmly in place. The two large servants responded in tandem, yanking their captive forward to stand beside Negaduck as the wall-less elevator prepared to move. Reggie's heart skipped a beat as they slowly inched lower, the barrier separating them from the sight below quickly disappearing as the platform crept below the floor. He had not expected the ground to so suddenly give way to the realm beneath: the lower levels completely exposed by the strange design of the manor. The tower itself was tall and narrow and now that he had finally seen the building's entrails it was suddenly obvious why.

The entire outer layer of the stronghold was but a shell designed to conceal the true machine sleeping in its core. The mechanism rose up the center of the shaft like a decrepit skeleton: jagged edges sticking out in regular intervals making it look very much like an actual spine. Surrounding the eerie backbone was a series of half exposed levels, each floor open to allow their terrors to remain on display for their leader's inspection. Every layer of the strange structure held a unique horror, all filled with rooms of torture designed to break spirits and devour souls. The haunting screams of anguish filled Reggie's head with pain: the once muffled cries now crystal clear as though some veil had been lifted to let forth the torrent of repressed suffering. He couldn't stop the shaking of his body, his entire frame quivering under the force of the terrifying sounds.

The small platform almost seemed to crawl down the impressive expanse of the building, groaning angrily with every inch it was forced to move. Servants dressed in black with hooded faces imposed a steady stream of torment upon their prisoners, no walls to steal the twisted images from Reggie's view. By the time the small lift finally slowed to a stop they had nearly reached the ground floor. The only level that separated the terrified bassist from escape was the lower great hall where his audition had been held. It was easy to see that the space was the center of operations; the very heart of the massive machine. Reggie could almost hear its retched beat echoing in the steely depths.

Like the levels above, the one they ended on also had several different rooms. The one they arrived in was small and quite unimposing. It was the space beyond that had Reggie's weary mind reeling with awe. All around him strange vessels sat containing an odd liquid behind their clear barriers. Despite the dim lighting in the room the tubes shimmered, glowing eerily against the darkness behind them. He watched in fascination as the odd yellow liquid bubbled and churned somewhat turbulently as though trying to break free from the glass confines. A suspended walkway was connected to the largest of the five vats, the narrow stairway at its back serving as a way to access the caustic fluid restrained behind the crystalline wall.

Negaduck grunted slightly in amusement as he watched Reggie's reaction to one of his favorite inventions. He made his way idly over to the nearest container, unable to resist pausing to brag about his ingenious creation.

"Magnificent aren't they?" he mused, staring almost amorously at the glowing tubes. "Making your little _boyfriend_ into the abomination he is always was one of my crowning moments of scientific genius," he continued, rubbing his fingers lightly over the glowing surface. "He'd do anything I wanted if I just made him _special_. Tch, how fucking pathetic is that?!" he finished turning on Reggie with a demented smile and a gruff laugh.

Reggie wasn't sure what made him glare slightly at the comment, but it soon had him staring curiously at the shining vessels. So this was the infamous fluid that had altered Bud so drastically.

"But enough sightseeing," Negaduck continued after a moment, finally tearing his attention from the large basins in order to lead the way down the short passage that would yield their destination.

Reggie didn't really walk at all: held up almost completely by the tight grip on both his arms as the guards pulled his exhausted body with them as they obediently followed their leader down the darkened hall. The pitch black tunnel seemed to feed off his fear, taunting his fragile mind with deceitful glimpses of escape.

There wouldn't be any.

Time suddenly seemed to slow to a crawl. The hallway was short but yet it somehow seemed to stretch on forever. When it finally did end Reggie found himself wishing very badly that it was longer.

The narrow tunnel gave way to the true heart of the imposing building. A great ring of thick steel encircled the very base of the machine, the metal plates littered with a strange array of ominous switches and odd dials. It was obviously the control panel. Reggie could just barely remember seeing it sketched in the book Drake had shown him. A slightly raised platform allowed access to the controls while an strange-looking surgical table allowed the necessary power to be harnessed from the massive energy source buried below.

For Negaduck's current needs that amount of power wouldn't be necessary. Elmo alone was enough to control Reggie's means of destruction. It was one of several devious devices surrounding the space and the one glass encased oddity that caught the terrified bassist's eye immediately. It looked unnervingly like a gas chamber; Reggie was sure it was something much worse. It almost seemed to torture him before he was even forced inside it.

He noticed the heat very abruptly: some strange, building fire that almost seemed to seep through the floor and up into his veins. Reggie shuddered at the sensation. It was starting to feel as though there were hot coals beneath his feet even though the metal floor was cool to the touch. He whimpered softly as he tried to lift his suffering roots away from the discomfort. The small movement earned him another painful jerk to his arm. He didn't attempt to repeat the action as he was pulled the rest of the way towards the unnerving setup in front of them.

Elmo and Jack were already there, situated beside the device and looking none too pleased about it. Bud's absence was very obvious. Reggie wasn't sure if he was relieved or not. Something made him wish he was there: some desperate desire for the protection the dog had once provided.

"You two," an impatient Negaduck snapped at the silent guards, "Chain the bassist up and get the fuck out of my sight."

The underlings complied with little more than a nod to show their obedience, slamming Reggie forcefully backwards and chaining him in a pair of convenient metal restraints attached to the wall before making their way swiftly from the room.

"You know Reginald," Negaduck commented almost distantly, "There are two ways to die by this machine. Have your physical form slaughtered and gather the soul at the moment of death, or allow the being to live on with whatever precious bits of their pathetic essence they can cling pitifully to." He paused so he could turn his red eyes upon his helpless captive. "I _was_ going to just rip your soul out and let you live, but my meddling little lookalike decided to run his fucking mouth. SO, I'm just going to kill you and eat your soul anyway," he finished with a wave of his wrist, turning back to the two guitarists standing by the metallic vessel. "FAGGOT!" he suddenly continued, "Get Sparks ready while I deal with our little _friend_."

His eyes narrowed when he received no response from the two, anger increasing at the way Elmo was cringing and wringing his hands together in obvious distress.

"NOW!" Negaduck yelled, causing the nervous rodent to jump slightly.

"You said you weren't gonna kill him!" he managed to retort.

"Well plans have fucking changed!" the furious singer yelled in reply.

Elmo responded with a pathetic look. Jack could clearly see how badly he didn't want to help Negaduck murder Reggie. The jester did his best to offer comfort, placing a reassuring hand on his companion's furry shoulder as though to try and convince him it would be okay. It fell painfully short of making Elmo feel any better.

"You'd better hurry it the fuck up Quack or I will seriously maim you both," Negaduck growled darkly.

Jack glared at the comment but began preparing to hook Elmo up to the mechanism anyway.

Reggie did his best to control his painfully audible breathing as he responded to his instinctual need to try and escape by doing the only thing he could think of at the moment: stalling for time.

"I thought you had to kill me anyway," he said as he twisted his wrists subtly against the cuffs binding them, searching for weaknesses in the overused metallic rings.

"Heh, seems you've misunderstood," Negaduck replied, "I don't _need_ to kill you, it just has to be possible. Killing you just allows me to take your entire soul instead of just part of it. I don't actually _need_ the entire thing. Just the dead part. And there is a little bit that isn't, but it's too small an amount for you to really have any free will. So I could control you, and I must say I would _very_ much enjoy having your corpse around as my personal slave. Especially after all the SHIT you've put me through," he finished with a gruff growl.

Reggie resisted the urge to point out that most of it wasn't actually his doing.

"But immortals cannot be killed," he continued, "A soul cannot be taken from a body that can't die, otherwise I would have eaten what was left of _his_ a long time ago."

They both knew who he was referring to.

"But he is you."

It was the only thing Reggie could think of to say, but he immediately regretted it as Negaduck turned the full force of his fury upon him.

"I am NOT him!" he roared, almost seeming to tower over Reggie despite his true height, "I am so much more than _Darkwing_ ever was! Forged in the chaos of death and destruction, birthed of insanity and the thrill of the slaughter I have a strength he could never HOPE to possess!"

Reggie swallowed thickly at the angry response, squirming pathetically against his bonds.

"Any more fucking _questions_ Reginald?" the angry avian growled.

Reggie paused for a moment as though considering if he should actually say what he was thinking.

"Anything?" he finally managed to question meekly.

Negaduck actually laughed at the retort, snorting slightly as a lopsided grin snuck across his face. "Why not?" he said, "I mean you're as good as dead and I do so love discussing my magnificence."

Reggie had to force his eyes not to roll at the egotistical display.

"I suppose there's one thing I don't quite get," he finally replied, "Why the metal band in the first place?"

"HA! What better place to find my army?" Negaduck laughed, "A built in following of hundreds of _millions_ of the blackest, cruelest and most blindly brutal souls on earth! They fed me for YEARS simply with their adoration and violence lust. But their souls are too weak to give me what I truly need. Now weren't they?"

Blue eyes shifted away in response to the malevolent stare.

"The bassists are devoured immediately," Negaduck continued, pausing for a moment to motion to the twisted space above them. "Others are brought here to be tortured and killed or left to serve in my army's ranks. They're not really alive at all, more like walking corpses. Kinda like zombies.. with less putrefaction and brain craving," he finished matter-of-factly.

"Aren't they kinda… useless," Reggie continued in an attempt to keep the other talking.

"Pfft, they can head bang, party, beat the shit out of each other and take orders. That's all I require," the singer responded distantly, already starting to grow tired of the conversation. "They're not what matters anyway. They're just an obedient little army birthed into this world to be my rotting puppets; my eyes and ears designed to help me keep watch over my domain. Merging with that beast is the only thing that really matters, and the last thing I require to make that happen is _you_."

Reggie didn't like the dementedly elated look he received one bit.

"Merging with that monster is more than just a means of ultimate power, it's the only way for me to be free of _him_ once and for all. To finally shed all that which makes me weak. To cut myself away from any remaining HINT of _Drake Mallard_," Negaduck snarled—saying the name as though it was unfit to be uttered by his tongue.

He paused for a moment to collect his slipping emotions as his head throbbed.

"But enough stalling," he said with a slight snarl. "This conversation is boring me." He turned away from the bound mutant in favor of making his way towards the others. "Aren't you fucking done yet?!" he barked at the mallard still attempting to attach his electrical companion to the glass-encased chamber.

"Just one fucking second!" Jack growled, trying to hide the way he cringed as he was forced to embed the evil attachment in his hand to the base of Elmo's neck.

Reggie didn't wait for that one second to arrive, lashing out viciously as his survival instinct kicked in. His exhausted body reacted as best it could, leaves stretching frantically against the cuffs still holding them in place, bleeding profusely as they finally slipped free of the harsh bonds. A horrid feeling filled his gut as he realized one of his sleeves had gotten snagged on the metal. He winced as coat ripped, the front of the garment pulling open as it was stretched beneath the strain. He could feel the agony as though it was his own skin that tore; he was powerless to stop the brief sob that he let forth at the wounding of the beloved item. It didn't slow his attempt to escape, trench coat trailing behind him as he ran.

With a string of volatile cursing, Negaduck pursued. The other drake's significantly longer stride put him immediately in the lead, but Negaduck was quick and Reggie was exhausted. With a vicious growl the furious singer latched onto the long black coat, forcing the fleeing mallard to the floor and causing his face to hit the ground with an audible smack. The now disoriented mutant groaned at the pain that shot through his bill and into his head, clawing at the ground as best he could to try and get away.

Negaduck was not pleased in the slightest.

Reggie's eyes widened at the sudden stab of pain that shot through his side, howling in agony as the serrated blade cut an angry wound deep into his skin, carving through the green flesh as it was forced upwards. Feathered fingers twined forcefully into his hair, yanking his head back roughly as Negaduck forced him to his knees. The second time the knife embedded itself in his back, carving a deep wound as it was pulled down his spine. Immediately the action was repeated, a twin wound being sliced into his flesh crossing over the first to create a horrifying X across his skin. Reggie howled in agony, ripping his petals from the harsh grasp and leaving the furious singer with a handful of the purple foliage as he attempted once again to get away. The wound to his vertebrae was extremely debilitating to his mobility, even if it was only temporary. The dark blood poured from his wounds, leaving a sickly green smear on the ground as he tried to pull himself away. He didn't get far—his strange spine sticking jaggedly through the marred meat of his back, exposing the tender nerves normally protected by the now delicate and plant-like bones.

Negaduck gripped at his coat once again, the pull causing the fabric to tear more at the yanking. Reggie instinctively pulled his arms from the garment, unable to even process his attachment to the item in his blind fear. The other mallard growled furiously at the continued defiance, dropping the coat and wrapping his fingers back in Reggie's hair. He embedded his blade into the side of the taller bird's neck to keep him from struggling long enough so that he could pull the flailing mutant onto his back and towards the menacing chamber he had been so desperately trying to escape.

Negaduck threw the injured body crudely into the ominous cavity before closing the thick circular door behind him and bolting it tightly. Reggie almost sobbed at the terrifying clank that resulted—petrified of being trapped yet again. He yanked the blade from his tender skin, wincing in pain and coughing blood as the weapon fell to the floor with a clatter. The injury brought him to his knees as he gasped for air. He was healing much slower in his fatigue, his spine struggling to connect muscle back to bone so the sickly array of mangled flesh could function enough to be useful. Reggie groaned miserably as his form slumped in exhaustion and pain before forcing blue eyes to address the menace before him.

Negaduck's glare almost harbored the power to kill him all on its own.

"You could have made this all a _HELL _of a lot easier for both of us you know," the furious singer snarled, "You could have just laid back and took it like the little _bitch_ you are, but you just HAD to make my fucking headache worse didn't you?!"

Reggie didn't reply.

"For someone who doesn't want to live you sure make one hell of a fuss about dying," Negaduck finished in disgust.

A momentary glance to the side happened to strike an idea in the malicious singer's head. He grinned evilly as he bent to retrieve the black garment at his feet. He held it up as though displaying it for Reggie's inspection. He relished in the distressed look he received in response. He dug his spare knife forcefully into the fabric, slicing yet another hole into the already tattered coat, extending the rip by hand just for the pleasure of seeing the horrified look on Reggie's face.

The defeated mallard couldn't control the slight watering of his eyes.

"I sure hope you don't expect that pathetic MUTT to save you this time," Negaduck growled as he threw the tortured fabric back to the floor uncouthly, "He's quite preoccupied at the moment."

Reggie actually growled at this. "Who said I want him to?"

Negaduck laughed slightly despite the glare in his eyes. "You know at first I despised the disgusting little _relationship_ you two formed. Bud always was one of the only assholes I could actually stand having around for more than a few moments, but ever since you've been here he's been nothing but a fucking disgrace," he paused to grin knowingly at Reggie, "Heh, but then he went and made you all the more perfect for my plans."

Reggie cringed at the statement, somehow already able to see its meaning before the other bird even explained himself.

"You think _anything_ happens in MY house without me finding out about it eventually?" Negaduck said darkly, advancing slowly upon the glass separating them. "You were just what I needed before but thanks to him you're fucking perfect! He hurt you _far_ more than I ever could have."

With that he turned away from the trapped duck in favor of making his way towards the pair of guitarists that had finally finished all the preparations.

"I was really hoping to get a damn concert outta you before I ended this, but considering I got an entire album I suppose it wasn't a total loss," he added as an afterthought as he made his way towards the controls of the glass encased tomb Reggie was now stuck in.

With a final evil grin he flipped the switch and began the countdown of the horrified bassist's final moments. Elmo shuddered unhappily as the machine began to drain the electricity from him, letting out a choked cry as the flow of current was stolen from his slender frame. Reggie stood in terror at the first sounds of the engine whirling to life. He backed away desperately as though he might be able to escape it, but there was nowhere to run.

"I've tried to murder you hundreds of times Bushroot and I have learned one thing very clearly from all that," Negaduck said, speaking loudly to overcome the noise, "Fire's the _only_ way to kill you," he finished darkly.

The comment nearly went unheard: the final firing of the furnaces terrifying Reggie to the point that it practically deafened him to everything around him. The fear struck at his very soul: It was like a stab of pain before the anguish even began. The flames were not far behind the eerie seeping of flammable vapor beneath him, one burner slightly ahead of the others sending up a single blast of fire that engulfed Reggie's entire left side. He howled in pain at the contact of the searing heat against his face and body, neck falling back and mouth agape as the flames blinded his eye and blistered his flesh. It would devour him in seconds.

His knife wounds suddenly felt like mere pin pricks.

As if his cries of pain snapped some long held boundary, chaos soon filled the space. The living wave rushed into the room at such a pace that the shocked occupants could hardly even register it was there at all. It immediately plowed into Elmo, knocking him forcefully back and into the furious singer behind him. The two fell into a convulsing, tangled heap on the ground, disabling and disorienting Negaduck enough for a rescue mission to take place.

Bud solidified before the metallic barrier separating him from the suffering duck beyond. He gripped the door with both hands, the metal groaning eerily in protest as the might of his water quickly yanked the heavy barrier right off its hinges so he could rush into the chamber. His fluid immediately extinguished the flames from below as he wrapped Reggie up in his arms, protecting the rest of his body from being burned and easing the damage already done. He rushed immediately from the smoldering cell, not willing to waste even a second of the time he had bought himself with his entry. His fleeing form swept turbulently through the hall that would lead him to the level beneath.

He knew there was only one place he could go. He only hoped he could get there in time.

Back in the control room screams of fury resonated loudly against the walls as Negaduck pulled his soaking and still slightly convulsing body to its feet and forced it to take off at a run after the liquid fiend. Jack stared in shock at the departing lead singer, slipping slowly from where he was situated behind his now waterlogged and miserable companion once he was sure Elmo was ok. There was something else in the room that required his attention, and he found himself inexplicably drawn to it. He stopped just in front of the forgotten coat, bending slowly so that he could take the garment with tender hands. He was oddly afraid of moving too harshly: somehow worried the coat might suffer more if he was not careful with it. He clutched the tattered and stained piece of clothing to his chest, unable to control the sudden emotion welling within him. He couldn't help the silent plea that sounded inside him for them to make it. For everything to be ok.

It mirrored the desperate prayer sounding over and over in another's head.

Bud rushed with all his might through the tense metropolis, praying internally that he didn't run into any of Negaduck's lackeys. He was powerless to control the miserable cry that escaped him as he took in the sight of the charred duck in his arms. More than half of the delicate petals on Reggie's head had been stripped away by the fire, his green flesh singed and horribly disfigured by the ruthless flames. His left eye had been dealt a particularly debilitating blow; the burning nearly melting the vulnerable tissue away from beneath the heavy lid attempting to protect it. The singed eyelid did its best to defend the decaying orb, watering excessively to try and sooth the injury. It wasn't quite able to close over the wound making the half open eye a very unnerving sight for the watery mammal clinging desperately to the dying mallard in his arms.

"Don't you dare fucking die, you hear me!" Bud sobbed, hugging the nearly lifeless body close to his chest.

"Don't die."

* * *

><p>Annnd it's probably pretty obvious where our little Buddy boy is going. Now what happens when he gets there? *gasp* You'll just have to wait and see now won't you?<p>

Heh, it occurs to me that I've ended a story chapter this way before. But what can I say? It's effectively suspenseful.

Hot DAYMN it feels good to be writing again!


	12. The Fever

Author's note: Wow, you all better love me for getting this purdy little chapter to you so quickly. And it's nice and LONG too! Although to be fair I have had a good chunk of this one written for a _looong_ time now. And my customary warning should provide you with the reason XD I'm a perv (yeah I know _real_ shocker) so I have this odd tendency to write my smut before anything else. Buuut I suppose my writing process is just somewhat bizarre in general. It all tends to start off as mostly mental word vomit.

But I digress.

Enjoy this fabulous chapter! It's is my new extra special brain babeh and if you love it as much as I do please don't hesitate to let me know! The Ariaa hungers for your comment love *nom nom*

Warnings: Freaky mutant smut and emotional overload.

* * *

><p>Darkness had engulfed Reggie's world.<p>

A heavy silence pressed against his ears as he floated between life and death, somehow barely clinging to consciousness as he was swept away from the turmoil behind him. Only two soft words pierced the muted veil: repeating over and over in Reggie's head as though playing out a mantra he wasn't even aware he had adopted.

"Don't die."

_Why not?_ He found himself questioning. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't seem to control his thoughts enough to even be sure he wasn't just talking to himself.

No.

No, he was sure it was someone else. Someone who cared about him? No, couldn't be. No one cared about him.

A heart-wrenching sob sounded at the inner monolog as the horrible thoughts caused Reggie to curl in on himself even more. Bud sped up as much as possible, actually panting under the physical exertion as he pushed his body to its limit. He took the miserable cry as a sign Reggie's condition was declining even more, and the very thought filled him with terror. He'd never felt such fear in his life.

He swept swiftly through the abandoned part of town, quickly slipping into the nearest entry to the underground. His fluid weaved frantically through the labyrinth of tunnels protecting the subversive city below, the many passageways doing little to slow his pace. He practically burst into the main hall almost unaware that there were even people in his way as he rushed through the dingy hideout. The terrified residents of the subterranean realm scurried out of the way as Bud swept passed them; he still nearly plowed several of them over in his haste. He could care less about them at the moment: only his destination was important.

He kicked the defenseless door in with a bang, the sight of the harshly quaking dog, chest heaving and severely injured mutant mallard clenched tightly in his arms, immediately filling the room with an uncharacteristic silence as the collection of children stared in horror, some even crying at the sight. Frantic fluid eyes quickly searched out the resident Bud was looking for, turning his panic upon the short duck currently gaping at him from the long table across the room.

Launchpad's cigar slipped from his bill as he turned to face the sight that had put his friend in such a state of shock, the smoldering stick falling to the ground as the pilot gaped at the two disheveled mutants. "Fuck," he breathed out softly, unable to offer more of a response as he stared at Reggie's sickly wounds.

Luckily the other mallard was far more capable of producing a helpful reaction.

"Follow me, now!" Drake barked, urgently making his way through the terrified mass of small bodies so he could push past the distraught drummer.

Bud simply did as he was told, following swiftly behind the other as he made his way further into the depths of the underground city. The dripping mammal was grateful that their destination wasn't too far, his panic easing only slightly as they made their way into the surprisingly well stocked medical center.

"Bellum!" Drake yelled into the space, already searching frantically for the absentminded doctor. "BELLUM!" he repeated angrily when he received no indication of the other avian's location, the bellowing of his voice finally catching the attention of said scatterbrained scientist.

"Geez chill out boss man," came the irritatingly relaxed reply as the slender bird finally decided to show herself, "What have I told you about that blood pressure of yours?" she finished, slipping lazily from the small storage room she had been rifling through.

Bud couldn't help but notice the strange and unnervingly large needle grasped in her hands, slightly disturbed at the way she rubbed the glass syringe with the sleeve of her lab coat.

"I was just about to test my new serum, so this had better be-" she stopped the words dead in their tracks as she finally took in the sight of her unusual visitors. "Holy shit," she finally continued, stupidly shocked expression on her face as she moved abruptly closer to the protective drummer and his precious cargo. "Is that the new _mutant_?"

"Yes!" Drake barked in reply, "And in case you _can't_ tell, HE'S FUCKING DYING!"

"Right!" Bellum exclaimed, the reminder pulling her from the shock produced by the strange combination of plant and duck currently shivering in Bud's arms. "Right, right, right," she repeated as she searched haphazardly through the various medical devices littering the room, considering her options carefully. "Put him there," she said to the drummer behind her, snapping her fingers to get his attention before pointing to the exam table nearby.

Bud slipped onto the slightly plush surface, holding Reggie in his lap for fear that without his water the delicate skin might immediately burst into flames once more. Just as he was settling the still shaking and barely conscious duck into a comfortable position, Launchpad finally made his way into the space, Gosalyn trailing closely behind him. The teen couldn't help the soft gasp she let out at the sight of the injured bassist across the room.

"What can we do to help?" Launchpad questioned urgently, desperate to do something to aid the situation.

"Just get me a damn botanist!" Bellum ordered curtly, struggling to try and figure out what to do with the strange flesh pressed beneath her probing fingers.

"Which botanist?"

"What's her name…. Doctor Dendron."

Launchpad rubbed at his chin as he attempted to force his not-so-brilliant mind to recall exactly which of their 4 botanists that was. "… the hot one?" he finally questioned.

"Yeah, whatever. Just get her up here!" the frantic bird barked, irritated that she had to sacrifice even a moment of her attention to address the good-hearted, but somewhat slow, pilot.

Launchpad didn't say anything else as he rushed off to find the plant doctor, Gosalyn quickly following behind him to aid in the search as much as to get away from the disturbing sight of the mallard in the other room.

"The _hot_ one LP?" she questioned as they ran, her voice clearly displaying the "are you serious" undertones.

"Hey kid, don't be judgin'," he muttered in reply, splitting off from the other redhead as they made their way to search in different directions.

Back in the improvised hospital, Bellum continued to bark orders at Drake, doing her best to find something she could do that wouldn't risk hurting the injured duck even more as her stand-in nurse brought her various bandages and other basic medical supplies. She had no idea how Reggie would react to any medication in his plant-like state and she dared not risk the possible devastating outcome that could result. All she could think to do was observe his condition closely as she waited for help to come. If they were going to save him they desperately needed someone who knew about plants. All the frantic doctor could do was hope that the merging of medical and botanical science could save him.

A collective sigh of relief sounded into the room when Launchpad finally returned with the beautiful, chestnut-haired scientist in tow. The relief was broken quickly at the uncharacteristically uncouth reaction the lovely duck provided. She almost squealed in excitement at the sight of the captivating oddity clasped in Bud's arms; she had heard about the living mixture of flora and fauna and she quickly found she just couldn't contain her excitement at finally getting to see it for herself.

"Oh, my, GOD there he is!" she squeed, rushing over to begin her own examination of the lightly shuddering bird. "Isn't he fantastic," she mused distantly, her mind completely entranced by the sight despite Reggie's disfiguration.

Bud growled gutturally at the unhelpful reaction, pulling the vulnerable plant in his arms away from her slightly in his anger.

"_Yeah_, study the scientific oddity later!" Drake snapped, equally unamused by the doctor's reaction, "Right now we need you to help us save him so you can examine more than a fucking corpse!"

Rhoda stiffed at the retort, turning suddenly shocked eyes on the shorter duck. "What am I supposed to do?!" she asked in exasperation.

"We need to figure out something to put on the burns," Dr. Bellum replied, silently coaxing Bud to ease Reggie onto his uninjured side.

"Like _what_?" the other scientist questioned, shock still clinging to her voice.

"I don't know something that's good for plants! That's why I asked you up here. I need your help goddamnit!"

Rhoda jumped slightly at the more dominating personality of the other female. "Well.." she said, pausing as she considered what they could possibly use that would be good for both plants and people. "I suppose I could put together some kind of aloe concoction so we can use the plant plasma to-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just do it!" Bellum barked, uninterested in one of the other woman's unnecessarily lengthy explanations of plant biology. "All I know for sure right now is _he's_ the only thing keeping him alive," she said pointing a finger at the distraught drummer. "If he loses that water for even a moment I'm convinced he'll die," she finished, not pausing her prep work as she spoke.

Bud gaped in horror at the comment, clutching Reggie closer at the very idea.

The lovely doctor nodded swiftly in response, rushing off without a word to prepare said concoction as quickly as possible.

"What do you need us to do?" Drake questioned once the other avian had left.

"I need you and Launchpad to help me peel away the burnt skin," she responded simply, already handing both men a pair of large flat tweezers, "Just be careful about it!" she barked as an afterthought as she positioned herself at Reggie's head so she could work on the particularly traumatized area around his eye.

She turned a serious stare on the wet mammal still clinging fearfully to the limp body in his grip. "As we work our way down I need you to immediately submerge the flesh after we get the burnt skin off him," she stated gently, obviously aware the distraught dog required a bit more of a tender touch at the moment than her usual aggressive mannerisms could provide. "The tissue underneath is going to be very vulnerable until we can get it bandaged so he'll need that protection."

Bud nodded shakily as he tried to compose himself enough to not start sobbing at the stress of the situation. It would do Reggie no good if he broke down now. He winced at the sight before him as the three birds began to peel the charred skin from the sickly burned flesh beneath, covering the exposed areas as they worked their way steadily but urgently downwards. Bud was happy to see Reggie was no longer even remotely conscious enough to feel what was being done to him.

"What about his leg?" Launchpad queried, brow cocked at the strange disposition of Reggie's lower half as he reached the rough skin of his hips.

"Just bandage it for now," the doctor replied, not taking her attention off the injured eye she was still fussing with. "I'm not sure what else to do.. it's not the same as the rest of him."

Launchpad didn't even have a chance to voice his compliance before the beautiful botanist finally reappeared, panting heavily from the strain of the sprinting she had done to get there.

"Here," she wheezed out, gripping her heaving chest with one hand as she held out the pale green paste with the other.

Drake rushed over to take the container, returning it swiftly to the other doctor as Rhoda recovered. She took it quickly, gently pushing at Bud's arm in a wordless demand for him to remove the appendage from the sickly, bleeding flesh it was protecting. The drummer couldn't help the soft sound of sorrow he let out as he watched her spread the substance over the now exposed tissue, his mind soon slipping almost completely away as he lost himself in the sight of the bird in his watery lap. He was powerless against the upset sniffles that began to sound softly into the room. At least the others had the decency not to mention it as they began to bandage the now treated injuries. He was just grateful it was over.

He only hoped it was enough to keep Reggie alive.

* * *

><p>Time seemed to crawl by.<p>

It had been nearly ten days and Drake was becoming increasingly worried as the length of time they were forced to keep the bassist hidden stretched on. He was just grateful Bud was around to tend to the ill mallard. That was the last thing he needed to worry about as he and his followers did all they could to keep Negaduck at bay.

A small room had been vacated to act as an ICU for the still debilitated duck. Various machines beeped all around the two mutants currently residing in the chamber, the battery-powered devices set up in an attempt for the two collaborating doctors to monitor Reggie's condition.

Bud had very much grown to hate the incessant sounds.

For days he hadn't left Reggie's side, only taking his eyes off him for a few moments at a time when he was forced to rest. The strain was starting to exhaust him. Even he needed sleep now and then, but Reggie had required so much care that he hadn't seen much of it lately. Cool fingers swept gently across the unconscious mallard's fevered brow. Bud stared forlornly at the fabric covering Reggie's injured eye, suddenly noticing the sickening stain that was just starting to form from the blood collecting underneath. He eased the bandages gingerly away from the still aggravated skin with a sigh, pulling it away from the closed eyelid so he could inspect its condition and replace its dressings.

Gentle fingers forced the injured organ open slowly, Bud diligently inspecting the damaged orb's condition. Although the impaired eye had begun to heal better than anyone had expected, as the days wore on it was increasingly obvious that it would never function properly again. The beautiful, brilliant blue had been tainted with a milky color, the iris clouded as though blocked by a hazy fog. No one was yet sure whether Reggie would actually be able to see out of it or not, but at the very least it wasn't going to rot out of his head. Most of the rest of him was actually faring better than the particularly sensitive tissue of his eye. His burns were slowly starting to scar over with new flesh and his hair had quickly grown back.

Bud was thankful the filaments had regrown so well. And not just because he happened to enjoy the petals but because he knew how self-conscious Reggie would be with half his head scarred and bald. At least with the purple mass intact he looked basically like his old self. Or at least he would if not for all the bandages. His scalp had received the least of the damage; most of the blow to his head had been dealt to his eye. The entire area around it was now a sickly open wound, the injury stretching back along his head and down his neck. The horrid burn covered almost the entire expanse of his left side, the wound ending abruptly just above his hips.

His lower half had fared much better. The more bark-like skin had healed remarkably well from the trauma and it was no longer even possible to tell it had been burned at all. Even the bandages were only necessary for a few days. The more vulnerable flesh that composed the rest of his body was a far different story. It struggled to heal itself, ever so slowly recovering the ability to fill in the missing muscle with scar tissue as his body regained some of its strength. For a moment it seemed things were improving.

Then came the fever.

It burned Reggie from the inside out, wracking his body with tremors and driving him mad with twisted delusions. The few times he was remotely lucid all he could do was demand a cigarette and sit, blankly staring until the tobacco was gone and he slipped from consciousness once again. When he wasn't resting feverishly he was lashing out: mindlessly attacking imaginary tormentors.

As if the horrid hallucinations could hear that Bud was thinking about them, Reggie suddenly began to shift violently in his sleep, new bandages barely in place before his body yanked itself forcefully into a sitting position and began to pull at the wires still attached to him.

Bud acted before the scream even sounded into the room, rushing back from where he was putting the roll of bandages away and quickly slipping behind the now wailing bassist. He grit his teeth tightly, miserable expression crossing his face as he attempted to control Reggie during his latest attack. The terrified mallard cried out uncontrollably as he tried to wretch his body from the watery grip now holding him in place. Bud pulled him closer as the frantic duck began to struggle more. It was all he could do to keep the still injured mallard from hurting himself as his body tried to heal. He sighed heavily, closing his eyes and resting his chin atop Reggie's head as the thrashing finally slowed to a stop and the screams turned into soft whimpers.

Bud took in a shaky breath as he hugged the suffering bird close. He laid him back on the bed gingerly as he slipped from the mattress, pulling his rickety wooden chair closer so he could sit beside the uneasily resting duck. He sighed as he placed a hand on the soaked bed. There was nothing he could do about the constant dampness. Bud could mostly keep his water under enough control not to soak everything he touched but under the circumstances it couldn't be helped. Reggie didn't seem to mind in the slightest; the water actually soothed his fever, and as long as the liquid remained cool it was like a godsend to the barley cognizant duck.

Bud's fluid fingers pressed against the water trapped within the cushion, the simple contact allowing him to control its temperature in order to combat the heat Reggie's illness filled it with and the warmth produced by the UV light they were forced to set up to help keep him alive. Without the luxury of actual sunlight it was the best they could do.

The cooling effect of his water generally helped calm Reggie after one of the panicked fits, but today seemed to be somewhat different from those that had preceded it. All day the bassist had been acting somewhat different. He was almost more aware of things at times, but yet he was obviously more disturbed than usual. He began to pant heavily and shift in agony at the fever-induced nightmares tormenting his fragile mind. Just as Bud was about to do something about it, a single blue eye shot open.

Reggie screamed in terror as his body shot upright once again, the dog to his left immediately grabbing him and pulling him against his chest in a desperate embrace in case he began to struggle once more. The violent outburst didn't come, but Bud was very unprepared for what he _was_ forced to endure.

"_Spike_?"

The choked question was barely a whisper in the silent room. The tightly clenched eyes Bud hadn't even realized he closed opened slowly as a look of shock pushed through his exhaustion to show on his face. He pulled hesitantly away from the now semi-conscious duck staring forlornly at him. He couldn't help his sorrow at seeing only one blue iris staring back at him. The weary eye widened beneath the force of liquid held behind it.

Before Bud even knew what was going on he was suddenly holding a severely shuddering Reggie, the mutant mallard throwing his arms around his neck and clinging desperately to him as his body shook.

"Spiike!" he cried, "I thought you were dead, I- I must have dreamt it. There.. there was so much _blood_," he continued, body heaving slightly as he rubbed at his watering eye. "I could have sworn you were dying right there in my arms."

All the stunned drummer could bring himself to do was grip Reggie tightly as the mallard whimpered softly and buried his face in Bud's moist neck.

"It was all my fault," the distressed duck suddenly wailed, dry sobs wracking his body once again.

Bud's eyes widened at the words, pained expression displaying his sympathy for other's grief. He pulled him closer as he felt the bassist's pain seep through his chest and into his soul.

"It wasn't your fault Reggie," he whispered, tears echoing in his voice.

He couldn't think of anything else to say. All he could do was hold the slender and shaking frame close as Reggie hugged him in painfully unmerited relief. In his fevered state the duck had hallucinated his watery caregiver to be everyone from his childhood bully to his dead mother whom he had never even met before, but nothing could have prepared Bud for standing in as a lost friend. The now unnerved dog helped Reggie lay himself carefully back against the bed as his fatigue overcame him and he was forced to release his hold on the other man. He continued to mutter random things to his "old friend" as he began to slip once again from consciousness.

Bud couldn't help the sobs that overtook him as the other finally drifted back off to sleep, the days of stressful worry and diligent care finally catching up with him as the scene ended. He suddenly wanted more than anything to bring this unknown person back for Reggie. But nothing would change the fact that when the plant-duck woke his friend would still be dead.

Bud just wished with all his heart that the other mutant might let him fill that painfully empty void.

The heart-wrenching delusion somehow seemed to relieve some of the physical anguish, the lethargic duck finally resting somewhat peacefully. The fever broke only a few hours later, allowing Reggie to fall into the first real sleep Bud had seen him manage since his illness began. He let out a soft sigh of relief, finally able to tend to his own needs as the world around him began to sway slightly in his exhaustion. The liquid canine curled up in the nearby bucket that had been left for him to nap in, slipping quickly into an uneasy sleep.

Hours passed as both the rooms residents rested silently. Bud was unaccustomed to being unconscious for such long periods of time, his fluid disposition usually allowing him to rest for just a couple hours every few days, but caring for Reggie was draining, forcing Bud to miss his usual naps as he cared for his patient. The disruption to his sleep pattern quickly forced the canine to slumber for much longer periods of time than he was used to. He didn't mind the extra rest, but he didn't like the dreams. He didn't usually sleep long enough for there to even be any, and they had become something of a foreign sensation for him. His water churned uneasily as imaginary terrors filled his head, images of his love slipping away from him and being torn apart by Negaduck tormenting his sleeping mind.

The distressed dog awoke with a start, head flipping nervously back and forth as he tried to force his sleep-clouded gaze to register the room around him. He sighed heavily as the sight finally reminded him of what was going on in the real world; what he wasn't prepared for was the sight of the now conscious mallard huddled against the wall, legs pulled to his heaving chest as he moved as far away from the drummer as he could while still remaining on the bed.

"Where the _fuck_ am I?" Reggie questioned, his voice weak and slightly shaking but still obviously angry.

The overwhelming mixture of relief, anxiety and sorrow Bud was suddenly facing left him quite unable to respond at first. "Back in the underground," he finally managed.

"How.. how long?" the quivering plant duck questioned, struggling to get the words out through his rising fear.

"…ten days," Bud replied gently.

The attempt at a consoling tone did nothing to lessen Reggie's discomfort. He swallowed painfully around the dryness in his throat. He was very uneasy about being trapped in such a small space with the dripping drummer.

Bud could clearly see it.

"Reggie," he whispered softly, taking a cautious step forward.

"Just stay the fuck away from me!" Reggie yelled, fear rising as the other tried to flow closer.

Bud winced at the command, unable to stop the severe quaking of his body at once again being banned from touching the duck. He had grown far too accustomed to coming to the other's aid at even the slightest hint of distress. Now that Reggie was back in his right mind he was fully aware of what had happened to him before he fell unconscious, and that included what Bud had done to him. He was far from ready to forgive and completely unaware of all that the attentive canine had done for him over the preceding days.

"Reggie," Bud repeated pitifully, completely incapable of controlling himself as he tried desperately to inch closer once again.

The continued movement quickly prompted a response.

Reggie fell from the bed, wincing in pain as he hit the floor and aggravated his still present injuries. Trembling fingers yanked at the wires connecting him to the nearby collection of machines, ripping the probes from his skin as he forced his body to escape from the dog. There was only one other door in the room besides the one Bud was currently blocking and Reggie didn't care where it lead.

In fact, it led into something of a small closet: a seldom used storage room containing a jumble of random items. It wasn't a real escape but it was enough of a safe haven to make Reggie feel somewhat more at ease. He pressed his back to the door once he had closed it, whimpering quietly as his physically drained body slid down the wooden barrier.

Bud's heart skipped a beat as he urgently closed the gap between him and the other doorway.

"Look Reggie I am _so_ sorry! Please just let me help you," he cried, pressing trembling hands against the rough surface.

"I don't care if you're fucking sorry!" Reggie yelled, voice slightly muffled by the board between them. "You think just because you saved my life that it's okay now?! That what you did will EVER be okay?!"

"I-" A choked sob cut Bud off before he could even begin. He suddenly felt as though he was suffocating, barely able to take in a shaky breath so he could continue.

"I'm so sorry Reggie, and I don't deserve your forgiveness… but you can't tell me you don't have feelings for me. That you don't _feel_ what I feel when we're together."

"I'm not gay!" Reggie immediately retorted, desperate for some justification to convince himself it wasn't true.

"It's not about being gay and you know it!" Bud snapped, slightly angry at the response, "That's just a convenient excuse."

Silence was his only reply.

"I know you care about me," he continued softly when the other didn't respond. "And If you want my affection, this is what you get. If not… I'll.. I'll leave, and you'll never have to see me again."

Bud's pain at the thought was obvious in his voice.

"So, what? I let you fuck me or you'll just leave?!" Reggie finally yelled.

"… it's not about that," Bud replied softly.

"That's sure as hell what it sounds like!"

"Well, it's obviously _bothering_ you that I might leave!"

The retort made Reggie pause.

"It doesn't mean I want _that_!" he cried indignantly, "I didn't want it before! And I DIDN'T enjoy it!"

"You don't moan like a slut if you don't enjoy it!" the increasingly irritated canine barked out, losing his cool for a moment in the force of the emotion.

Despite the door separating them, Bud could somehow clearly see the hurt look the mutant mallard produced in response, and it was enough to make him immediately regret it.

"Reggie please, I-I.. I didn't mean that. I'm just.. I'm going a little crazy here!"

"You fucking RAPED me Bud! You expect me just to forget about that?!" Reggie screamed, choosing to completely ignore the excuse the other tried to produce.

It hurt to actually hear the word. It felt very much as though it literally stabbed him in the heart. For a moment Bud was completely lost for words, opening and closing his mouth several times before the appendage finally managed to let forth a response.

"I fucked up Reggie," he choked, the tears flooding into his voice, "I fucked up so bad."

It was all he could say before the sobbing began, the drummer completely breaking down under the emotional strain. The devastated cries were a shock. Reggie was suddenly unsure what to do. He could barely even control himself enough to keep breathing as the other mutant outside finally composed himself enough to continue.

"Please forgive me," Bud whimpered, "_Please_…. I lo- … I-I… I…" he sighed heavily, leaning his forehead against the door. "I love you," he finished softly, the gentle breath of his words unable to disguise the true depth of the feeling behind them.

He was barely able to believe that he'd just said it.

"Well, you have a funny way of showing it!" Reggie yelled in reply, unable to keep the slight anguish from his voice at the other's admission—and the internal voice telling him he quite probably felt the same.

The angry response made the distraught dog hang his head in shame.

"..I can't be around you and not …care about you Reggie," he finally said, resisting the desire to say the word love again: he knew it would only make the mallard more resistant to the emotions he was currently struggling with."So if you don't want me to care about you….. then all I can do is leave you."

The soft statement infuriated Reggie, suddenly filling his entire being with a tangible rage. His body finally stirred, the lanky frame moving abruptly to stand so he could remove the shield blocking him from the other mutant. Bud swept back in shock at the action, eyes widened at the now livid bird.

"And you expect me to just not FEEL anything?!" Reggie roared, advancing slightly on the cringing mongrel, "Like I'd just be okay with you showing up, fucking around with my emotions and then ditching me?!"

Bud was powerless under the pained and angry stare.

"I fucking trusted you!" he continued, voice cracking under the weight of the sorrow that was quickly engulfing his anger.

It was the first time he had admitted it out loud.

The confession left Reggie completely incapable of keeping his grief at bay, his entire form slumping in defeat. "You're such an asshole," he finished with a whimper, the tears threatening to come forth as he rubbed his own arms in an attempt at self-comfort.

"I'm sorry. I didn't.. I didn't mean to make you cry," Bud responded gently, reaching out to wipe the tears before they even fell.

"I'm not crying!" Reggie snapped defensively, moving away from the outstretched hand.

Technically it was true, but he may just as well have been sobbing; it was what he wanted to do. His body just refused to let him.

Bud took a chance and started to once again flow closer to the plant duck. Reggie shook slightly at the advance but made no indication that he would move away as watery limbs reached down ever so gently to take his leafy fingers in their tender grip.

"I love you Reggie," Bud responded quietly, his soft voice almost seeming to reach into the quivering bird's very soul, trying to coax some long hidden spark of life back from the darkness that had engulfed it.

"Well stop!" Reggie retorted, eyes already beginning to water once again, "… I don't want you to," he finished quietly, the waver in his voice betraying his true feelings as his body shook and his fingers resisted returning the hold clutching them gently.

Bud slipped closer at the action, pressing a wet finger gently beneath Reggie's chin so he could lift the lone indigo eye to meet his gaze. "Yes you do," he whispered, pulling the other gently into an unannounced hug.

Reggie didn't return the embrace but he didn't resist either. Bud could feel the leafy hands on his chest curling ever so gently against his fluid form in a timid but reassuring sign that he truly wanted the affection. He gripped the slim body tighter, completely taken over by the relief of the other allowing his wet arms to hold him. He buried his nose in the soft skin of Reggie's neck, almost able to smell the summer fresh scent of the floral mallard. Reggie still didn't hug him back, but he didn't fight the increased intensity of the embrace. He just kept his leaves pressed to the softly flowing water, the slight stiffness in his body slowly relaxing as he gave in to the soothing current.

He had missed the contact.

Reggie found it very difficult to look the other mutant in the eye once he had pulled away, a soft blush creeping across his face when he finally did force his gaze to focus on the cerulean pools that were still so enthralling to him.

Bud was completely overwhelmed by the sight, suddenly closing the gap again as he pressed his flowing muzzle gently but urgently against Reggie's bill. The shocked plant duck recoiled at the action, pushing himself away slightly in an attempt to increase the space between them.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he griped, wiping at the tingling moisture clinging to his beak.

The look Bud offered in response clearly voiced his genuine shock at being so forcefully pushed away.

"I thought you wanted me to stay," he said quizzically.

"So?!" Reggie retorted, "That is _not_ permission to fuck me!"

"But you do care about me," Bud answered softly.

It wasn't a question.

"That's totally different!" the nervous duck sputtered.

"No. It's not."

Reggie swallowed thickly at the response, trying to ignore the incessant voice of reason that told him it was true and he knew it.

"I know what I did was wrong, but you…" Bud paused for a moment as though afraid to continue, "You can't tell me you didn't feel what I felt," he finished softly.

Reggie's blush grew at the comment, unsure look taking over his face as he stared pitifully at the slowly approaching drummer. For the first time Bud could clearly read the desire in Reggie's gaze: the need to love and be loved in return.

"If you want my affection… this is what you get," he continued gently.

"And what if I don't?" Reggie whispered almost inaudibly in reply, the tone of his voice adding little validity to the question.

"Then I can't be near you. I can't not love you." Bud sighed deeply before continuing. "And I obviously can't control myself around you…. I couldn't bare it if I hurt you again."

The genuine nature of the statement was not lost on Reggie. He swallowed thickly at the feelings assaulting him internally. No matter how hard his deeply engrained need to protect himself screamed at him to just turn the other away and run he couldn't keep the other overwhelming emotions stirring inside him at bay. He didn't want Bud to leave. In fact, the thought terrified him. Whether he wanted to admit it or not there was an uncontrollable desire to have the other man near him, to touch him and be comforted by him… maybe more.

His color deepened at the notion.

He was still somewhat apprehensive as Bud flowed closer but he made no attempt to move away again, silently accepting that the only way to keep the oddly captivating mutant from slipping away from him completely was to give in to what they both truly wanted.

That didn't mean he wasn't nervous about it.

Bud coaxed him gently backwards until his path was blocked by the forgotten bed, shifting without a word to help the timid mallard lay back against the surprisingly soft mattress. Reggie's heart pounded as the realization of what he was about to let the other do sunk in. Although the anxious duck currently supported only a half gaze, it was enough to make Bud pause and regard him with tender eyes. The expression told Reggie all he needed to know: Bud would stop if he told him to. That though alone made him finally give in with a shaky sigh, blush returning with a vengeance as the other mutant leaned close with obvious intentions. This time, Reggie allowed it to happen.

The kiss was passionate and filled with an excess of sensation; a harsh contradiction to the previous feeling of fear and disgust that had been elicited by the excruciating nature of the first liquid osculation Reggie had received. He couldn't stop his eyes from slipping shut as he gave into the erotic caresses of the swirling, watery appendage currently slipping around inside his bill. It was a somewhat odd feeling: his beak pressing past the watery barrier slightly before the resistance of Bud's form pressed back. It was strange but hardly unpleasant, much like the sensation of touching him in general.

Reggie's hands moved tentatively to grip at the drummer's wet dreadlocks. Bud made a conscious effort to make the hair-like streams tangible enough for the other to clutch. The pressure of the flowing water was strangely arousing, causing Reggie to shudder at the cooling streams and jerk his hands suddenly away from the overpowering feeling. He didn't realize that the intricate maze of veins in the delicate leaves made them an unusual erogenous zone for him.

Bud gripped him tighter at the reaction, holding him close in an attempt to ease his nerves. He didn't miss a beat when the uneasy feeling caused by the fluid follicles made Reggie pull away for air, slipping his watery tongue down the panting mallard's smooth chest and torso as his hands ran parallel along his sides. He stopped when he reached the spot where the green skin met the course bark of his lower half to swipe his tongue along the junction. The difference in sensation the water provided between the two portions of his body made Reggie tremble with poorly disguised desire, his legs twitching slightly as Bud stroked his watery hands gently along them. The distracted canine just barely caught sight of the shuddering bassist clamping a hand over his bill to quiet the soft sounds it was threatening to let forth. The action compelled Bud to move from his position, slipping his tongue up the shuddering abdomen as he went.

His fluid body danced along tender green flesh as Bud flowed from his current location and slipped beneath the quivering duck, forcing Reggie's body into a different position as he reformed his own liquid frame. The still nervous mallard sighed at the welcomed shift as Bud moved him onto his right side. It kept the injured half of his body off the bed and allowed him not to have to look at his bedmate while blushing so pathetically at the mere thought of allowing the water dog to once again fill his body with liquid sex.

The sly canine buried his face in Reggie's neck as he stopped to appreciate the new position. His hands quickly began to roam, truly exploring his lover's body for the first time. The softly shaking mutant mallard in his arms couldn't help but be amazed at the way the deft, fluid fingers seemed to know exactly where his sensitive spots were. HE didn't even know where they were. It was a stark contrast to the previous experience. Despite Bud's slightly needy attitude, the affectionate nature of his actions was more than enough to assure the still uncertain duck that he really was trying to make up for last time. Reggie wasn't sure why the thought made him so much hotter. He was almost sure the other was intentionally raising his water temperature just to make his body burn. His face flushed and his bill slipped open slightly as his yearning to be touched grew.

His desperation displayed clearly on his face: his customary mask suddenly stripped away to bear the truth of what lay beneath. Bud could easily see the rise in Reggie's need. The diligent canine did his best to avoid doing anything that would aggravate the still heavily bandaged areas of Reggie's body as he curled around him slightly. Through the dim light in the room, he could see the soft blush reforming on his face, an unspoken assurance that the other was enjoying his actions despite his tightly clenched eyelids and nervous gasping. The trembling bird tried his best to keep back the soft groans that threatened to fall from his mouth: unable to let go of his shame from moaning the previous time.

He sunk his teeth into the inside of his beak to keep the telltale sounds at bay; it didn't take long for the diluted taste of blood to fill his mouth. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't silence his impassioned pants forever. His bill parted slightly in silent cries of desire, the whimpers of pleasure held back only by sheer force of will. The desperate attempts at silence did not go unnoticed by his bedmate. The fluid drummer was starting to grow somewhat aggravated at the other's frantic attempts to remain quiet. He wanted to hear the mallard moan so badly, to hear him call his name in the throes of passion.

How many times had he heard it in his fantasies?

"I'm not forcing you this time," he whispered gently, wet hands never stopping their sensual stroking.

Reggie huffed in slight annoyance at this, trying his best to keep the aroused edge from his voice. "No, just blackmailing me," he replied, the slight gasp and squirm that followed the statement betraying the true extent of his excitement.

It was a poor way to describe the ultimatum Bud had given him, but it was the best he could come up with at the moment.

Bud chuckled softly, smile spreading across his face as his seductive actions became more determined. "Only because you seem to need an excuse."

Despite the complaints, Bud was all too aware of the amount of trust it actually took for Reggie to allow the intimate touches. The mallard knew all too well that if he asked the drummer to stop, he would. He was _letting_ him continue.

Reggie swallowed harshly at the remark. He knew Bud was just trying to lighten the mood, but he suddenly found himself trying very hard to convince his sex-hazed brain that the observation was less than accurate. The thoughts slipped away as another gasp was torn from his mouth, bill falling open once again beneath the force of his growing lust.

A wet hand trailed beneath the now parted beak, stroking along Reggie's neck and chest in a surprisingly suggestive manner as its lookalike trailed to a somewhat more devious destination, gripping at his crotch and pulling his rear closer. The practically withering mutant's resolve finally gave way at the surge of water that found its way between his legs as Bud humped him from behind. The shaky moan that forced its way from his mouth was music to his companion's ears. Bud couldn't hold back the satisfied smile that graced his face at the soft but still stunning sound, groaning softly in pleasure at the noise.

Reggie finally couldn't fight against his own desire anymore, some of his emotional wall crumbling as he allowed his responsive flesh to pull on the water in a desperate attempt to fill himself with the stimulating liquid. He was somewhat embarrassed about it. The last time his body had done it on its own, driven mad with the arousing sensations Bud had forced upon him; this time he was doing it intentionally. His face flushed deeply at the realization. Suddenly he felt almost afraid to keep drinking the water in so needily.

Bud could see the struggle very clearly. He hugged the nervous drake gently in an attempt to assure him it was okay. It was unclear whether the embrace had helped or not. His hand slipped fluidly down Reggie's panting chest to join its preoccupied twin in its erotic ministrations as he moved his muzzle close to his wanting lover's face.

"Let me hear that gorgeous voice Reggie," he whispered.

Reggie shifted, head jerking slightly to the side as though to display refusal. His moans were still stubbornly held back despite the way he forced his roots into the inviting current the other was pressing against his lower half in a wordless and unintentional plea for more. Bud was more than capable of recognizing the silent request. The woody appendages were obviously one of the plant-duck's more sensitive areas.

Bud pulled him closer, nearly submerging him completely within his churning water as the pull on his fluid increased and his own desire grew. He shifted his head over Reggie's soft petals as he tried to alter their position further. The simple move elicited an unexpected reaction from the floral duck in his arms, causing him to jolt away slightly and sending a round of severe shudders through his body. For a moment Bud was afraid he had hurt him. A cerulean eye cocked inquisitively at the other as he tried to discern what had caused the harsh quivers. An ever so slight tremble of movement at the corner of his vision coaxed Bud's gaze to the gently swaying anthers protruding from Reggie's soft nest of hair. Through the darkness he could see the stalks twitching slightly, almost moving towards him as though to ask for more of the pleasing contact. Bud wasn't even sure if Reggie noticed it. He swiped his fluid tongue inquisitively along one of the soft purple organs. Almost immediately he could feel the result in his still hesitant companion, the erogenous effect of his tender licking sending obvious trembles along Reggie's spine and enticing a delightful round of uninhibited moans from his bill.

"Oooh, you like that huh?" Bud whispered affectionately into the shuddering mallard's ear.

He received a soft, but still blatantly aroused, groan in reply, Reggie's body quivering harder as he stroked his fingers lightly along another of the thin filaments.

Bud just had to grin at the response. "Mm, let's do more of that then," he purred gently, pulling another of the delightfully responsive stamens into his flowing fingers.

The watery canine moaned softly at the quiet sounds of pleasure that the continued stroking elicited. He couldn't help the enamored smile that slipped across his face as Reggie tilted his head back slightly in a silent plea for more of the gentle caresses. Bud was more than happy to comply. A thoroughly pleased smile lit up his face as he moved the watery muzzle close to one of the responsive gametes, sucking it carefully into his mouth.

Reggie was completely incapable of controlling the sounds that followed, his body giving a rough jerk as the sensitive sphere disappeared past watery lips. Bud immediately released the anther as the reaction became more severe, Reggie's body beginning to spasm as he whined and clutched desperately at the hand still pressed to his groin. The action brought Bud's eyes immediately to the bark-covered hips, jaw dropping uncouthly as an unexpected change began to take place. The shuddering mallard whimpered loudly as the rough exterior split to let forth the softer and slightly moist appendage, his body reacting instinctively to the situation in the best way it could comprehend. Reggie's face filled with dread as he forced himself to look down, pulling Bud's arm away from his crotch so he could inspect it.

The newly added root was a strange contradiction to the rest of his rough lower half. It was smooth and pale, like a fledgling branch with the bark peeled away: tender and exposed. He greeted the sight with a horrified expression, face flushing so deeply it was practically black.

Bud blinked stupidly at the phallic-like stick. "Is that?"

"NO!" came the horrified reply.

"Sure as hell looks like it," Bud muttered.

He couldn't help the slightly mischievous grin he directed at Reggie. It faded when his lover began to look more uncomfortable, replacing with a reassuring one. He nuzzled Reggie's cheek as the other continued to shift tensely. He knew how to take his mind off the discomfort.

_Let's see how sensitive your little friend is. _He thought impishly.

Flowing fingers grasped the new limb, slipping up and down along the already swelling flesh in tantalizing streams. Reggie's entire body trembled under the stimulation. Bud couldn't help licking his lips at the delightful response, eyes glued to where he was stroking. Reggie narrowed his eye irately at the action, suddenly annoyed at the triumphant look on the other's face.

"Do you _have_ to stare at it so much?" he grumbled, the sentence coming out as more of an embarrassed whimper than an angry question.

The attempt at agitation didn't stop the needy groan that followed. A displeased look crossed Reggie's face at the poorly timed display of his sexual arousal.

Bud frowned at the expression. "Well, do _you_ have to look so unhappy about it?" he retorted, still teasing at the arboreal organ between Reggie's legs.

He huffed slightly in irritation when he received no response.

"You can't tell me it doesn't feel good," Bud continued.

"No it doesn't!" Reggie gasped.

A somewhat playful grin met the telltale sound of Reggie's arousal-laden voice.

Reggie glared embarrassedly at the expression. Bud quickly let the look ease away as he took in the sight of the other staring at him, replacing with a sincere smile.

"What?" Reggie grumbled when the loving grin only made his blush grow.

"I'm- heh… I'm just happy," Bud replied simply, eyes slipping closed as his smile beamed.

The answer took Reggie by surprise. He didn't even have a chance to react before the watery mammal behind him was shifting into a different position, coaxing him to lie on his back once again as the sudden need to hold his partner properly overcame him. He positioned himself between Reggie's legs, moving the trembling appendages so that one rested on either side of his body as he moved his hands to Reggie's slender waist. The plant-duck blushed profusely as his hips were pulled higher into Bud's wet lap, the dog dragging him down slightly on the mattress so he could press closer to the sensitive spot in Reggie groin. The blushing mallard shuddered at the pleasing sensations as Bud bent his body over the aching proof of his desire, the woody member being engulfed in the swirling current of the drummer's torso as he did so.

Reggie pressed curled fingers desperately to the watery barrier now resting close to his chest, panting softly into the churning waters as wet fingers began to stroke his length once more. Although the silky appendage was a delight for Bud, it wasn't what he was really concentrating on at the moment. There was a tingling surge of euphoria building in his chest that was very difficult to ignore and it was quickly making him tremble under the force of the foreign feeling. His water sunk deep enough into the soft skin of Reggie's ribcage for him to feel the muted rhythm of the mallard's racing heart, his water pressing against the fast-paced beat as it sent shudders along his body. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Every new emotion evoked by their actions was a novel journey to him, every new touch a different realm of sensation. No normal being could take in his water the way Reggie did: it was a joining of bodies so intimate and unique that he knew it was nothing he could replicate even if he tried for a million years.

The look in Reggie's eyes clearly said he felt the same, but Bud didn't expect the whispered admission of Reggie's feelings that followed.

"_Buddy_."

It was barely an uneasy whimper— the soft statement almost seeming to beg Bud for some kind of guidance. If the dog hadn't seen Reggie's bill move he would have never been sure he said it at all.

A trembling hand suddenly lifted, unsure what exactly to do. Bud immediately grabbed the leafy appendage, tenderly guiding it behind him in an attempt to ease Reggie's subconscious desire to cling to his lover. The quivering mallard allowed the placement for only a moment, gripping at Bud's back tentatively before his embarrassment set in once again and he forced the hand to fall back to the sheets beneath him. Bud pouted slightly but didn't try to urge Reggie to repeat the action. Instead, he settled for lacing his own watery digits between the fingers clinging to the thin blanket, coaxing the hand up so that it rested beside Reggie's head, their palms pressed together and fingers intertwined. Tightly clenched eyes opened hesitantly at the action, Reggie finally meeting the watery blue orbs staring back at him. A soft gulp sounded into the otherwise silent room as Reggie finally allowed himself to give in a little. His eyes slipped closed again to avoid the loving gaze as he permitted his trembling digits to close slowly around the comforting liquid nestled between them.

Such a simple but intimate act.

It wasn't technically the first time Bud had held his hand, but it was the first time Reggie had held his back. It suddenly occurred to him that the moody bassist had probably never really held _anyone's_ hand before—at least not in a loving sort of way. The expression on Reggie's face made it obvious.

Bud dropped his head down lower at the unsure look his partner conjured, rubbing his nose tenderly against Reggie's lightly trembling beak. His watery heart skipped a beat when the affectionate action made the floral mutant grip his hand tighter. The gentle kiss that followed forced Reggie to release the hold his teeth suddenly had on his lower bill, the tender caress of watery lips somehow easing the heat in his cheeks. Bud buried his face in the other's neck when the Reggie finally pulled away, unable to resist the faint sent of flowery avian he was treated to every time he did it. He once again began to stroke at Reggie's erection, his other hand never leaving its tender embrace with the leafy digits still clinging desperately to him.

Reggie whined in need, squirming desperately as the continued stroking began to build a torturously enjoyable pressure in his nethers. Although he had felt the sensation before, it wasn't exactly something he was overly accustomed to, and in his altered state it was even more of an overwhelming experience for the repressed mallard. It was overwhelming for Bud in a somewhat different way. He had never been with anyone as responsive or inexperienced as Reggie and he found he was quickly losing himself in the encounter. Every needy cry rang like a blissful melody in his head, stirring within him and spurring him on. He suddenly couldn't help the thrusting. Reggie found he actually rather liked the motion under the altered situation. He couldn't deny having the primitive urge to do the same thing. He practically ripped his leafy hand from Bud's grip as the building pleasure finally forced his shyness away and allowed him to cling to the man above him, hips jerking slightly to meet the fluid motion of the drummer's lower half as he wrapped his legs around the other's dripping torso.

Bud shuddered as Reggie began to meet his thrusts, the tight hold the whimpering mallard now had on him only serving to increase his desire for more. He was starting to lose his control again. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to keep his lust-drunk mind focused solely on the desire of the withering beauty in his arms. The last thing he wanted was to make Reggie nervous in any way. Sex already made him nervous. He had to be sure he could still stop if Reggie wanted him to—although that was becoming increasingly unlikely.

He was almost relieved when Reggie's body began to quiver more forcefully: a sure sign he was nearing his limit. Bud only hope the reaction truly meant he wouldn't be asked to end things now. The thought quickly prompted a response from Bud's body, his animal instinct finally taking over completely as the fluid canine gave a final forceful surge of his water before it all became too much for Reggie to handle. His back arched excessively much as it had done the first time, the convulsing mallard trying desperately to continue clinging to Bud as his body contorted. His penis swelled under the stress, a small stream of milky sap soon bursting from the tip of the hard root as the force of the climax overtook him. The cry Reggie let out lasted far longer than the physical evidence of his release, his body shuddering in orgasmic waves as Bud clutched him close.

The water-dog shuddered at the feeling that filled him as Reggie came. The torturous warmth had returned once again, swirling within him and making his entire body tingle with arousing heat just as it had the first time. He tried his best not to let his form fade but the sensations quickly became too much, his body falling into a lightly convulsing puddle. He reformed as quickly as his exhausted state would allow, pulling his body up once again so he could regard the condition of the mallard beneath him.

A slightly disheveled and heavily panting Reggie met his gaze. Sweat mingled with the water dripping down his quivering chest, painting an inexplicably beautiful (and disturbingly arousing) sight for the liquid canine. Reggie could feel the inquisitive look bearing into him, but for a long moment he refused to break the tantalizing afterglow by daring to meet the watery stare. When he finally did open his eye to take in the sight of the drummer above him, it was quickly obvious how tired the exertion had left him. He was unable to even offer the dog some kind of indication that he was okay before he began to slip into an exhausted sleep. Bud couldn't help but smile at the now quietly resting duck, pressing his forehead gently to the bassist's sweat-slicked brow. He soon curled up next to Reggie, pulling the other close as he dared to rest with him for a while.

When Reggie woke a few hours later Bud was no longer sharing the mattress with him, content instead to sit beside the bird and observe him as he pulled himself back into the realm of consciousness. He knew Reggie would have been embarrassed to wake up in bed with him. He had been forced to pull himself from the embrace anyway in order to inform the others that their patient was now awake and doing remarkably better.

Bud wasn't quite sure if him not being quite so close to the fidgety avian helped or not. The other still looked painfully uncomfortable, immediately turning his face away from the wet dog as he lifted his still aching body back into a sitting position. Although he was still hurting, he couldn't help but notice that the heavy dose of Bud's water had seemed to aid in his healing process. A soft green tint began to grow in his cheeks at the thought. Bud's face fell at the displeased expression Reggie produced in response to the annoying flush of color. It wasn't like he had expected the other to suddenly confess his love or anything, but he had hoped he would at least be a bit more open to his company now.

A curt knock to the door saved either of them from having to break the heavy silence, the short mallard outside not waiting for approval before entering the room. Reggie's brow lifted quizzically at the sight of the other bird. He actually looked worse than he did at that point. His only eye was sunken in and displaying a palpable amount of overexertion: it was obvious he was ignoring a large amount of pain.

Drake blinked stupidly, staring back and forth uncomfortably between the two as the obvious tension in the room registered. "Uhh.. sorry for the interruption.." he said awkwardly, "but we just found this outside one of the tunnel entrances."

Bud cocked an eye at the flat box he was holding, moving forward to collect the item from the other.

"I figured this would make more sense to you two," Drake finished, handing the parcel along with a small note over to the dripping dog. The mallard didn't wait for a response before leaving the room. He was obviously intruding at a time he shouldn't.

A watery brow lifted as Bud stared at the short note in his hand. Scrawled across the small piece of paper in a very familiar—and somewhat girly— script was a brief and obscure explanation of the package:

_Still no points for fashion sense_

—_J_

Bud couldn't resist chuckling slightly at the little heart that was drawn next to the single letter signature. _You're such a softie Jack. _He mused to himself. The short letter was more than enough to explain what was in the box even before the drummer opened its white lid. The smile slipped across Bud's face of its own accord as he took in the sight of the black coat folded neatly in the package's confines.

Reggie had clearly seen it too.

His entire body winced as he tried to move, the look of anguish very obvious in his expression as he put a hand to his suffering torso."Give it back Bud," he managed to choke out painfully.

Watery limbs extended slightly as though the water dog was about to do just that, but they soon stopped as a thought struck their owner. He suddenly couldn't stop thinking about a certain feverish moment when he had ceased to be Bud in the other mutants eyes: transformed into a long lost and mysterious friend.

Reggie's distress grew exponentially at the silent refusal. "Give it back goddamnit!" he yelled with poorly disguised urgency, grimacing once again as he tried to move from the bed.

Bud didn't reply right away, hesitating as he regarded the uneasy plant-duck in front of him. "First… tell me why it's so important to you," he finally said.

Reggie's whole body tensed in anger at the quiet demand. "Why the fuck do you care?!" he yelled.

Bud paused to ponder this for a moment. "I….I just do."

Reggie immediately clenched his teeth against the story that was trying to force its way from his mouth. He'd never told anyone why that particular garment was so important to him and he suddenly found the words wanting more than anything to be heard, trying desperately to tear free from behind the wall he had built up around himself.

But there was no way he could allow that.

A defeated aura suddenly engulfed his entire being as he slumped. If that was what it took to get the coat back, Reggie simply didn't have the courage to do it. Bud sighed heavily as this reality sunk in. He couldn't allow the other to suffer like that. He flowed forward gently, finally holding the coat out to its rightful owner. Reggie let out a choked sob at the sight of it. Jack had somehow managed to remove the disgusting green stains from the now purified white interior of the mended garment. The repair work was hardly as invisible as the previous job the skilled rhythmist had done, but the stitching was still incredible given the state the beloved item was in when Reggie had last seen it.

It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid his eyes on.

He took the trench coat slowly, fingers trembling as he reached. Reggie hugged the scarred garment to his chest as he curled his body around it, quivering as he buried his face in the black fabric. It was painfully obvious how badly he wanted to cry. Bud sighed heavily at the sight. There was only one thing he could think of to do that might get the bassist to tell the story he so obviously wanted to get off his chest.

"He uses it to control me," he whispered, eyes downcast and form slumping slightly.

The comment actually managed to tear Reggie's thoughts from the garment clenched in his leafy hands, coaxing his confused eyes over to the watery mutant.

"What?" he choked, genuinely confused by the random statement.

The drummer forced his fluid eyes to lift. "You once asked me why I hate this collar so much," he said, voice uncharacteristically meek.

Reggie found his eyes glued to where fluid fingers were gripping at the unwanted symbol of the dog's servitude. He was shocked at the information but more so at the divulging of it. Bud was truly trying to earn his trust again. This was very difficult for him and it showed. The now curious mallard remained silent, allowing the other to continue uninterrupted.

Bud sighed shakily as he gathered his nerves to continue. "He.. he has some way of… _hurting_ me with it," he continued, the end of the sentence coming out as a dismayed whimpered.

He suddenly looked very distraught.

"Why don't you just take it off?" Reggie finally managed to question through his shock.

The sopping dog's form bristled at the question, frustration suddenly filling the watery being. "If I could take it off don't you think I WOULD have by now?!" Bud screamed, unable to control his distress over the issue.

He was suddenly yanking insanely at the strip of leather and metal encircling his neck, using every ounce of his power to try and force the device from his watery form. The collar seemed to defy all reason as it clung to his liquid, staying attached to him even thought he had managed to pull it almost completely free of where his neck normally was. Despite the force he exerted, he was barely able to move it.

It was determined to keep its hold over him.

"He found some way of keeping the FUCKING thing attached to me!" he cried, his voice cracking beneath the force of his sorrow.

With a final baring of his teeth and a pitiful sob, the scene ended, Bud's form slouching once again as both hands slipped away from the still firmly attached collar.

"I sure as hell didn't sign up for this shit when I joined this freak show," he finally continued, his voice taking on a somewhat irritated quality. "I mean, how the hell was I supposed to know that crazy bastard was ingenious enough to find a way to use my damn _hydrogen bonding_ to keep a torture device attached to my fucking neck?!"

Reggie couldn't hold back the slight snort he let out at the comment. Negaduck's ingenuity _was_ one of the worst things about him. The bassist's distracted gaze was brought back to the dripping dog as the slight shifting of his blue form glided along the edge of his vision. He couldn't help but feel bad for the other as he took in the sight of him sitting across the room with such a look of defeat and depression overcoming him. He hadn't known Negaduck had been hurting the water dog. He hadn't known it was even _possible_, but it was suddenly clear that the singer had been hurting him all because of Reggie himself. Because Bud had dared to extend his friendship and love to the brooding bassist. For the first time since Bud had betrayed him, Reggie truly accepted that he wanted to trust him again. He swallowed thickly around the slightly ill feeling in his throat as he prepared for what he was about to do. He didn't say a word as he searched within the confines of his coat to produce the small item.

Bud cocked an inquisitive brow at him as he pulled what appeared to be a slightly crinkled and torn photo into his leafy hands, the aged picture protected behind a makeshift plastic barrier. It was obvious that he was struggling with the decision to show the precious item, but he slowly held it out with trembling fingers. He was hesitant, but he was obviously willing to at least try and bridge the rift that had been torn between them.

Bud slid slowly from his perch, almost hesitant to approach. He was somewhat afraid Reggie might change his mind if he got too close. He didn't take the picture for fear of forcing it to endure more damage than it already had despite its thin, waterproof covering, but Reggie preferred not to have to hand it over anyway. Watery locks slid to the side as Bud tipped his head, investigating the photo curiously. Within the paper borders, two young boys stood trapped in time. The drummer gazed curiously at the beaming red-head holding the camera up so he could force his moody companion into a staged memory. Green eyes gleamed above the smile while faint freckles dotted its edges. One of the young mallard's arms was stretched out while the other was wrapped around a younger but still slightly sulking Reggie.

There were several things about the picture that caught Bud off guard, but nothing compared to the sight of a familiar black coat draped around the slightly older boy's frame. The image confirmed what the drummer had subconsciously suspected since he found out about the enigmatic friend: the coat Reggie so cherished was all he had left of him. Trembling leaves pulled the photo back, Reggie staring emotionally at the picture he seldom had the courage to even glance at.

"He…" Reggie choked slightly at the first word as he tried to compose himself enough to offer an explanation. "He was my best friend," he finally managed to whisper, the tears in his voice heart-wrenchingly audible. "He was my only friend….my only family." He paused a moment to regard the happy face of his long dead companion. "Spike." A soft snort broke the brief silence the name had evoked. "Of course that wasn't _really_ his name.. but then…. he never would tell me his real name."

The story trailed off once again as Reggie's eyes started to water and his expression turned to a horrid mixture of pain, anger and utter misery.

"He was murdered for no fucking reason!" he suddenly yelled, photo quivering in his now shaking hands. "All they wanted was our money but they thought I was holding out on them! He was just trying to protect me." Dry sobs wracked Reggie's body, tears still refusing to fall as his breaths came out in choked pants. "They killed my best friend for 20 dollars and a fucking pack of cigarettes," he wailed, pulling his knees to his heaving chest and clenching his eyes shut as his body curled around the coat. "He died in my arms," he whimpered into the cherished garment.

Only Reggie's soft sniffling broke the silence that followed the sorrow-filled sentence. Bud was powerless to do anything at first, mouth slightly agape and expression clearly displaying his pain at the other's suffering. He watched as a long-held dam finally broke inside the bassist and a wave of pent up emotion washed over him. Reggie's eyes watered at the sudden break down that he was incapable of controlling. A number of the tears finally slipped down his cheeks as he held the tattered fabric closer, some of the stray drops slipping free from beneath the bandage protecting his injured eye.

Bud's heart sank at the miserable expression and pathetic whimpers. It was easily the most transparent display of feeling that the dog had yet seen him exhibit. He was soon sobbing, his body allowing him to cry for the first time since he'd lost his friend. The first time in over 6 years. There was nothing that Bud could think of to say. He finally flowed closer to the mallard, slipping an arm carefully around the severely shaking bassist. He noticed Reggie didn't flinch. Just as he'd done before, he made no move to resist or encourage; he simply accepted the comfort, closing his eyes as his trembling gradually slowed and his hysterical sobs turned into a steady stream of silent tears.

Bud wasn't sure when exactly it happened but he was soon holding a sleeping Reggie to his chest, stroking his fingers through the slumbering mallard's silken hair: an action he found he couldn't resist with the other unaware of it. It felt like hours before he finally forced himself to slip from the embrace, laying the emotionally and physically exhausted bird gently back into the comfort of the bed. Tender hands pulled the black coat from Reggie's weakening grip, slipping the garment from leafy hands so that he could lay it over the sleeping form. For hours he sat there just watching as the other slept, keeping close watch over his love. Even though they were buried beneath a mile of dirt, Reggie could almost feel the sun beginning to rise outside. He shifted in his sleep, a soft sound of longing for a taste of its light slipping from his still closed bill. Bud finally stood to leave as the other began to stir, suddenly desperate not to be there the other woke. It would just make it harder to do what he had to. He couldn't fight the need to lay a gentle kiss on Reggie's forehead before he left. Something seemed to warn him it would be the last chance he'd get.

It was literally painful for Bud to force himself from the room, resting his back against the door as he closed it behind him. For an excruciatingly long moment he just stood there, eyes clenched shut and heart trying to process all the emotions weighing down on him. The sight that greeted him when he finally did lift the weary lids was not particularly what he wanted to see. The single eye held an urgency that was impossible to ignore. Bud did a poor job of holding back the displeased sound that escaped him at the sight of the short mallard.

Even if they were on the same side it didn't change the fact that Bud didn't much care for the vertically challenged loudmouth.

"We need to talk," Drake stated simply, his seriousness quite evident in his tone.

"Yeah, about what?" Bud retorted gruffly.

"You can't stay here anymore."

The response was brief and to the point. Just what Bud had come to expect from the imposing bird.

"Says who?" he growled, more irritated the timing of Drake's intrusion than his demand.

He knew it would be coming soon.

The masked mallard took a moment to respond, considering his answer carefully as he observed the bubbling mutant. "As much as I've _appreciated_ the fact that you've been here to play nursemaid… you and I both know that every second you stay here you're putting him in more danger."

Bud didn't reply. They both already knew he was aware of it.

"You're putting us all in danger," Drake continued. "And I can no longer allow that."

He still received no answer.

It took a moment for Bud to collect his thoughts enough for a reply, the sopping mammal staring blankly at the floor before finally nodding his response.

"There's just one thing I have to do first," he said, not bothering to wait for the masked mallard's approval as he sloshed away.

"And _what_, pray tell, could you possibly need to do first?" Drake questioned irately, moving quickly to keep up with the wet dog as he moved down the corridor.

There was no way he was just going to let the other turn his back on him in _his_ domain without a better explanation.

"Raid your arsenal," Bud responded simply. "If I'm going down I'm at least gonna take as many of those fuckers down with me as I can," he finished, growling slightly as his anger and need to protect the floral mutant he left behind grew.

"You're going to try and take him on alone?!" Drake questioned as he gaped at the dog who had just made his way into their crude weapons storehouse and was now helping himself to as many devastating explosives as he could fit into the two sashes he was now wearing around his torso.

"Oh, and what would you suggest?" Bud questioned menacingly, pausing his searching only momentarily to turn angry eyes upon the shorter man. "Team up with you?! You and I both know damn well he has _way_ too much control over me for my powers to be of any use to you. At least this way I might be able to take a chunk out of him before I go."

"Tch, it'll just grow back," Drake replied darkly.

"I'm not looking for your approval alright Mallard! You got what you want. I'm leaving and there's nothing else to discuss."

With that Bud pushed his way past the slightly glaring avian so he could make his way out of the underground realm. Drake couldn't even bring himself to pursue. He knew the other was right. There was no way for Bud to help them. He'd already done all he could do and that was to save Reggie's life. Outside of that there was no true purpose left the dog wished to fulfill. Only the thought of protecting the only thing that had ever really been precious to him spurred him on.

"Good luck," Drake finally whispered into the empty room.

His gaze narrowed and his face twisted suddenly into a furious snarl, his anger welling up as a moment of pity for the dog grew within him. More than that, it was a fury at the cowardly mallard who was just now waking, rubbing the sleep from his uninjured eye as he searched the room groggily for the sopping drummer he had expected to find. He could swear his heart had stopped: the organ seemingly suspended in time as the reality of the empty room registered.

Bud had left him.

Somehow he knew it was for good. He snarled into the empty space, fury growing as the thought that Bud had just used him for sex again pushed into his mind. The anger did a poor job of subduing the horrible feeling of sorrow and longing in the pit of his stomach. Reggie barely had time to sit and fume about the other's absence before his solitude was loudly interrupted.

He nearly jumped right off the mattress beneath him when the entry to the small room flew open with a bang. He was not prepared to so suddenly be staring down such an obviously furious Drake Mallard.

"You have got to help us NOW!" the shorter duck screamed.

Reggie blinked irately at the demand, anger still clouding his gaze as he stared down the other one-eyed mallard. "I don't take orders from you!" he spat in reply.

"Your precious guard dog is out there risking his life and all you can do is sit here feeling sorry for yourself?!" Drake retorted angrily, "Try being a _man_ for once and HELP HIM!"

Reggie grit his teeth at the response, the action unable to keep his rage fueled enough to stop his body from slouching in despair.

His expression fell at the thoughts now assaulting him. "Why should I when he just abandoned me?" he grumbled quietly.

"You really are fucking pathetic you know that?"

The reply was enough to resurrect some of Reggie's wrath despite the way the question seemed to leave him feeling completely broken.

"Who the _hell_ asked you?!" he snapped defensively.

"That dog just _literally_ pulled your ass out of the fire. The least you could do is thank him by trying to return the favor!" Drake yelled, ignoring what Reggie just said almost completely.

"….I'm not convinced he deserves it," the stubborn mutant replied, the slight anger that still remained speaking loudly through the words despite the fact that Drake was barely able to hear them.

"Just like the world doesn't deserve to be saved, right?" the shorter duck responded indignantly.

Reggie had no response for the angry question.

"He fucking _cares_ about you Reggie!" Drake continued, unwilling to cease his struggle to gain the other's alliance.

The statement was more than enough to prompt a response from the increasingly agitated mallard.

"Then why the hell did he leave?!" Reggie refuted.

"BECAUSE HE HAD TO!"

The force of the furious answer made Reggie swallow thickly as his mind admitted defeat.

"He told you about that collar, didn't he?" Drake queried once he had calmed his rage.

A curt nod was his only response.

"It doesn't just mean he can be controlled. It means he can be tracked."

The shock was evident on Reggie's face as he tried to coerce his weary mind to process this information.

"There are only two places it won't register," Drake continued. "Down here and out in the badlands… Negaduck has known for _years_ that we were in one of those two places, but he was never able to find us."

The tirade paused a moment when he noticed Reggie's currently neglected pack of cigarettes. He helped himself to one wordlessly, not bothering to ask permission. Reggie huffed slightly but decided not to waste any of his strength objecting to the theft. Drake inhaled deeply from the now lit stick, closing his exhausted eye as the thick smoke eased his migraine slightly.

"He knows there's an underground," he finally continued "But he doesn't know that we've dug beneath it, creating our own maze of tunnels far below the deepest recesses of the _original_ underground."

A single blue eye blinked at the information, the facts not quite clicking in Reggie's mind.

"Shouldn't it be pretty obvious that this is where you are?" he questioned in an attempt to ease his confusion. "I mean, you have to escape from him from time to time right? Don't you have to be in the city to do that?"

Drake took a deep hit of the still burning cigarette before replying. "Oh, we have tunnels that stretch out to the badlands too. We've been able to keep him mostly confused up until this point, but he _definitely_ knows were down here now, and it's only a matter of time until we're completely unable to stop him."

A soft noncommittal sound answered the explanation, Reggie still struggling with the questions swirling through his head.

"That still doesn't really explain why Bud left. If Negaduck can't track him down here what's the difference?" he questioned.

Drake grunted slightly at the inquiry. "The only reason he can't find that dog down here is because I managed to set up a signal jammer that keeps him from being tracked, and in return for providing a safe harbor for Bud whenever he wants it he's kept his mouth shut about our location. It's allowed us to remain safe for this long, but Negaduck and I are running out of life and soon he'll just start tearing the entire city apart to find us. As soon as he gets close enough my jammer wouldn't be able to block the signal of that collar… him staying here would only make us die faster."

Drake paused a moment to regard the obviously struggling duck in front of him. Reggie had been trying very hard to quell his feelings of longing for the other mutant, but it was becoming increasingly difficult as Drake's explanation failed to provide ample excuse for Reggie not to help Bud.

"Negaduck is going to get desperate," Drake continued when the other offered no response. "And it's going to happen soon…. we don't have much time left.

"….I still don't see why I should help him."

The quiet and unconvincing retort immediately brought Drake's anger back full force.

"Look, I don't _care_ what he did to PISS you off so badly, you still owe him your life!" he roared, advancing menacingly on the other avian. "And it's obvious you have _some_ kind of feelings for him," he continued with a slight growl, "So, help us! If you won't do it for everyone else.. at _least_ do it for him."

Drake's face fell slightly when the plea had no effect.

"You're the only chance we've got," he finished, desperation sneaking into his voice.

"Well, you're all fucking _screwed_ then," Reggie finally replied bitterly, forcing an angry yet already forlorn blue stare to face the shorter bird. "I can't help anyone," he finished softly, expression softening and head dropping in an obvious admission of defeat.

Drake glared at the answer, grinding his teeth against the dying cigarette clenched between them. He turned his back to the bassist, form hunching and fists clenched at his sides. An angry eye angled back over his shoulder as he turned his head to address the bassist one more time before departing.

"You're the worst kind of coward."

The softness of the sentence did nothing to lessen its painful impact. Reggie knew it was true. The fact still remained that he didn't want Bud to leave. And the situation did not change that. He was just afraid—just as he'd always been. And he was using his anger to try and cover it up. He curled in on himself at the punishing silence that followed the other duck's retreat, hugging his legs to his chest in a characteristic display of discontentment. He couldn't stop the shaking that resulted from the conversation still replaying over and over in his head.

He didn't know what to do.

Drake was still growling softly when he arrived back in the main hall, cursing under his breath at the gutless mallard he had left behind as he made his way swiftly to the observation room. Launchpad was already there, keeping close watch on the collection of TV screens that had been gathered so they could monitor Negaduck and his mindless army. Even he was showing signs of his fatigue.

The look of his obviously furious friend was more than enough to tell Launchpad all he needed to know about the outcome of Drake and Reggie's little chat.

"He's not going to help us… is he?" the pilot questioned quietly, his uneasiness at the increasingly dire situation evident in the soft question.

Drake's silence was answer enough.

"…do we really stand a chance without him DW?"

For the first time in a long time Drake allowed the nickname.

"I…" he paused considering what he could possibly say. "I don't know LP."

It was a lie. He knew all too well what the answer was. He just didn't want to admit it out loud: afraid the simple utterance of the dreaded truth would bring it down on them that very moment.

"Well.. I guess you won't have to find out," a soft and unsure voice replied from behind them.

Drake turned truly dumbstruck to find Reggie standing there, form slumped and smoldering cigarette clenched in his bill. His mouth hung open for a moment as he took in the weirdly joyous sight of the smoking duck. A genuine and determined grin slowly spread across his face, the smile soon beaming widely at the taller bird. His muscles actually ached at the strain: it had been a long time since he smiled so wide. He didn't even care that it made his already throbbing head hurt more.

A new found optimism filled the elated mallard as he turned back to the turbulent metropolis displayed on the screens before them, eyes narrowed and grin altered into a cockeyed half smile.

"_Now,_ we got ourselves a war."

* * *

><p>Omg so much feels.<p>

Ok, I enjoyed writing this one waaaaay much, so I can't even complain about all the work it took, BUT that doesn't mean comments won't make that work so much more worth it x) I seriously do appreciate each and every one that you guys take the time to write and I swear they will each receive a reply filled with icky-sticky Ariaa affections once I get the time.

Smooches!


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